Thomas Abridged: Volume II
by ToonGuy
Summary: After staving off demons, criminal masterminds, and recreational drugs, the (maybe) dysfunctional engines of the (definitely) dysfunctional North Western Railway are back for another round of alcoholic, foul-mouthed misadventures! Now on TV Tropes!
1. S6 Episode 1: Salty's Secret

"Come on, put your back into it! You act like you've never rebuilt a station before! Don't give me that look, you're the assholes who volunteered to work on the Island of Sodor, I'm pretty sure that you knew the risks when you started!" Gordon growled and stamped back over to the other seven engines, all on a tea break. Their fifth of the day.

"Bit harsh, don't you think, Gordon?" remarked Edward, sipping on his brew casually. The big engine grunted, and backed down angrily next to James and Henry.

They were in the midst of yet another renovation project. They had somehow managed to find hardhats made specifically for engines, and were now 'helping' the construction crew fix up the Smelly-by-the-Sea fishing village. Helping of course, in the broadest possible sense of the term. A fly could have helped more than Gordon, Henry and James at the moment.

"Next time, I'm getting a plastic mac!" James muttered rebelliously. "The dust is playing havoc with my temple of a body!"

"You know, perhaps the problem with this is lack of mood music." Henry suggested.

"What, do you want us to do Feng Shui and move the trucks around so that the chi can flow more effectively through the yard?" Duck was in a good mood today, mostly because he had finally been allowed to get drunk for a bit.

"No, he's got a point actually." Toby looked around at the grumpy sods doing the working. "I mean, at this point, we can hardly do worse, can we?"

"So what song shall we ploy? Er, play?"

In answer to Percy's question, Thomas turned to the massive ghetto blaster that the Fat Controller had set up to inspire morale in the troops, and banged it lightly. "Okay lads, our theme song is coming up. Three...two...one."

And as one, they belted out together!

"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE WE ARE!  
BORN TO BE KINGS!  
WE'RE THE PRINCES OF THE UNIVEEEEEEERSE!"

And at last, the theme was cued.

...

 _Dear Miss Allcroft._

 _Thank you once again for the confirmation of another series to be filmed on our Island. Allow me to extend the usual courtesies, that you may bring Mr Angelis, Mr Asquith and of course, Mr Mitton, and that your stay will once again be provided by Harry Topper's Hotel of Happiness! Please be aware that there is a rodent infestation, and we can't afford to put you up anywhere else. A free brick has been given out to each guest, so don't worry about that._

 _Let me also offer my condolences for the failure of your movie at the box office. I am aware that last time you were on the Island, some...harsh words were exchanged. Edward was a little bit peeved that you appear'd to have cut him out of the movie entirely, and in fact seemed to ignore his existence entirely. I still don't think that quite covers him declaring the movie to be cursed as a result, but he had been under a lot of pressure at the time. Carlin was also angry that he didn't get a look in and that you instead got one of the Baldwins to do his job...but we all just ignored him._

 _But anyway, your department has contacted us regarding the need for new engines. Much as I am loath to bow to the merchandising on any level, I do see the practical point in it. Luckily, the two engines that I have ordered shall be unusual to say the least, and I hope that they will satisfy your need for new content. I am aware that one can only shoot Thomas coming off the rails so many times before the audience gets bored._

 _Wishing you all the best!_  
 _Sir Topham Hatt._

 _P..S: Try and tell Mr Angelis not to fall in the canal this time, please?_

...

All of the engines on the Island of Sodor love their work. Now, stop sniggering! It's true! Look at how happy Edward and James are to be pulling trucks, while Gordon pulls the express and mocks them repeatedly. See how they laugh! See how they deliberately try and knock him off the track! Good times!

But sometimes there is too much work. Too much work by the Fat Controller's definition, mind, as if we were to follow the definition as set out by the engines, that would mean...well, any work, really. So that's when he has to get a new engine over to help out. And also for marketing purposes, new engines tend to get people talking about the series again.

And one of these engines was just being unloaded at Brendam Docks. He looked to Oliver, who just so happened to be there with Toad. He spoke to him. At least, Oliver thought he did. "

Ahoy there, me bucko! Why, be a beautiful day and no mistake! Maybe ye can be tellin' me th' way that I'm supposed t' go, me barnacle-covered lad o' thar seven seas!"

Oliver blinked. "Erm...riiiiight, um...you're headed for Anopha. So...keep going straight until you come to the junction, then turn right."

"Ah, ye have a kind heart, me bucko! I shall sin' yer praises t' th' Cap'n, whoever he may be! ye and I must get together and be tellin' stories o' our conquests and plunderin'! Hahaha, and dinna spare the whip!" And off Salty went.

"Mr Oliver?"

"Yes Toad?"

"Why do we always get the nuts?"

"Shut up, Toad."

All right, let's see what the back of his toy tells us. Ahem. He loves to tell tales of the sea. It's a pity then that we had to censor most of them on grounds of decency. There he is, already off on one of his rambles.

"We heaved until th' barnacle-covered freighter moved at last, to be sure! Ah, 'tis good t' be useful! Isn't that right, Polly?!"

"MRAW! PIECES OF EIGHT, PIECES OF EIGHT!" said Polly, his driver, who had been at sea to long and/or had been with Salty too long, and had become convinced that he was a parrot. As Salty trundled along the countryside, listening to Polly echoing his comments back, he somehow failed to notice the increasingly obvious signs that he wasn't heading towards the docks as he had hoped. He was very odd like that. He had been very excited to come here, mostly because of the somewhat obvious logic that Sodor was an island, and islands are surrounded by sea. And fish live in the sea. And he caught fish. And Polly ate them. Bones and all, sometimes.

In case you couldn't tell A; Salty loves the sea and B: Salty is a bit of a loon.

...

"Oh god."

"Why do we always get the nuts, Bill?"

"Not a clue, Ben."

As Salty drew in, the twins grouped together nervously as he approached. They had had some characters over the years, but never one as out there as this diesel seemed to be. Their fears were not assuaged when Salty opened his mouth. "Ahoy, mateys, salty, pride o' the seven seas 'ere! I 'earrr ye be 'avin' work fer me to be doing! I be a new diesel, though I've been through some right things o'er the years, an' I be 'ere to give ye some 'elp!"

Bill blinked. "Was that English?"

"Why, it's th' Queen's own english, don't ye be knowin'? What I'm saying be as clear as th' prow on yer faces! N' fine prows they be too, aren't they, Polly? Whar's th' cap'n? I wish t' make parley with him!"

"I think he's been in one too many crashes, if you know what I mean."

Mavis had been watching this for some time with dawning horror on her face. But at last, she decided to act. She was going to make the best of a bad situation and damn anyone who could tell her otherwise. "Ahem, that captain be,...is me! I'm Mavis, and welcome to the Center Island Quarry! It looks like a bit of a dump, and it is, but that's why you're here!"

Salty's fixed smile stayed on even as he made the following calculations.

To the north: Rocks.  
To the south: Rocks  
To the east: Rocks  
To the west: A bronze statue of someone named 'BoCo' and rocks.

"A quarry?! But I'm a diesel o' th' open briny deeps, lass! I can't be below decks fer too long, fer fear that me lungs may visit Davey Jones' Locker from th' lack o' briny deep air!"

"...Well, if that means what I think it means, you're a quarryside diesel for the moment." And Mavis explained that the Fat Controller had a not-too specific job for them to do, one that he hadn't made up off the top of his head just to give the fools something to do while he got on with actual important work, no sirree.

Salty was sad (Nay, heartbroken) that he wouldn't be working besides the sea, but he did know that he had to be a really useful engine. Mostly because the back of his toy told him he had to be. So he set to work at once.

After he had three pints of grog, of course.

...

"Ah well, at least there be trucks!"

"You better mind them, I know that you've probably dealt with trucks before, but these ones here seem to have malice and rage specially bred into them! Even though they've become a bit lightweight recently, that still means-"

"Aaaarrrr, wrench, a truck be a truck!"

"Call me wrench once more and you'll be eating through a straw for the next few years of your life."

"He won't last five minutes." muttered Bill.

"Those trucks will trip him up soon enough! And then we can laugh! As we always do...we really should get new hobbies."

"Nah, Ben, you're talking rubbish! This'll be fun!"

But to the twin's surprise, Salty and the trucks seemed to get on as well as water and sand. Salty being the water, wearing down the trucks until they were far more malleable, with his songs and stories and complete invulnerability to anything that the trucks threw at him. And they could respect that. The songs were not top ten material, or even top forty, but the trucks seemed to like them. "Yo ho ho, n' a bucket o' prawns, th' tiller spins-"

"AND THE CAPTAIN YAWNS!"

"KILL ME NOW!" shouted Bill. Ben had already knocked himself out on the rock wall. Thanks to Salty's work, the Fat Controller's 'important' job was nearly complete. Which means that, shock of all shocks, it might not have been that important in the first place. Bill and Ben, once he had woken up, were both surprised and jealous.

...

"I HATE SALTY!"

"Calm down, Bill, you know that you come out in rashes when you get angry." Mavis said, trying to sound sympathetic and failing.

"Here comes Mr Showoff! He'll probably be telling us about that incident with the three-breasted mermaid and the randy old fisherman again! If we can understand him! And could you please ask him to take a wash!?"

"You have to admit, he has a knack with those trucks. And he did far more work than you two, you just stayed in your sheds sulking like little babies all day while me and him actually did the work! I've even managed to get him to stop calling me wrench, skivvy or anything else equally as degrading. He's learning, unlike you two!"

"PAH! Driver says he's full of hot air, and that he'll bore the bolts off us with his stories!" snapped Bill.

But Salty didn't come anywhere near the sheds. He stopped just besides the coal hopper and said not a single word to the three engines. This suited the twins just fine, but Mavis couldn't help but feel a little startled. She crept out of the shed and moved to a distance where the smell wasn't quite so overpowering. "Hey, um, if you want, there's room in the shed."

"Arrr, thank ye kindly. Oh, I twas thinkin' I might catch a bit o' briny deep breeze. Hear th' gulls one last time."

"You really do miss the sea, don't you?"

"Yeah." said Salty, sadly. "I do."

...

But enough emotional drama! We had enough of that in Magic Railroad, am I right, lads?

Salty knew that having emotions and feelings came second to doing the 'important' quarry work that was never really defined properly. So he decided to extend a olive branch to Bill and Ben in the form of advice on the trucks. "I like working t' a musical tune, so I do. So do th' trucks! We be lovin' th' barnacle-covered classic 'Thar Once Twas A Lass From Regina'. Try it out, see if ye don't get further than ye did yesterday!"

"Well...it's worth a try."

And so the twins buffered up to a train of trucks. "Here we go, here we go!"

"No we don't, no we don't, that's football, we hate that stuff!"

Try as they might, the twins were no match for Salty's incredible singing abilities. They spent the rest of the day wondering if they had lost their touch, and if not, had they ever had said touch in the first place. It was a very reflective time for both of them that they both promptly ignored the next day.

Later that day, the Fat Controller came to the quarry. Truth be told, he was not as impressed as he made it out to be, but considering that he had given this 'important' job, he decided that he might as well throw them a bone. "WELL DONE!" He said, forgetting once more to turn the volume down.

"It was Salty who did all the hard work, sir!" said Mavis. The twins decided to ignore everything that wasn't their bruised egos.

"Really? In which case, I have another job for you!"

"Aye aye, gaffer. What kind of quarry is it?"

"Quarry?" said the Fat Controller. "This was just a clerical error on my part! I'm sending you to Brendam Docks!"

"THE DOCKS! BY THE SEA?"

"That...is the one I refer to, yes."

"Thank ye sir! This reminds me of a time in-" And off he went. Unfortunately, we can't tell you what story this was, as it was too vulgar even by our standards. And that should tell you a lot.

...

"Why do we always get the nuts?!" snapped Cranky, as Salty babbled on.

Now Salty works at Brendam, and he loves it. He does more work there than any three engines (Though considering the current standard of said engine, that doesn't say much) and only the trucks know his secret.

Though it's really not hard to guess.

* * *

 _Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Thomas Abridged Volume II! Hope you are well, and enjoy this chapter. If it seems a little rougher than usual, it's because somehow I accidentally deleted the original chapter a few days ago, and therefore have literally rushed my guts out to meet my self-imposed deadline for the first chapter. I am still proud of it, however, and I shall answer any questions/reviews in the next one!_

 _Credit for the lovely cover image must go to Genericuser22!_

 _Full steam ahead!_


	2. Episode 2: Harvey to the Rescue

Thanks for being so understanding! This, hopefully, should be a bit better. For one thing, CARLIN! Now, review time!

 **bigyihsuan:** Glad you approve!

 **The Nerdinator:** Fixed it, thanks!

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** Thank you!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Thanks! Hope this is enjoyable!

 **Reality Rejection Service:** Only thing I could really do with him!

 **Greatwestern1522:** Oh, he's still grinning. Lorry 2 is still in that field, by the way...forever! Mwahahaha.

 **TrainManiac:** Give it a bit of time, it should get better, I hope.

 **Game-Watch:** Perhaps? I don't watch Family Guy, sorry.

 **Radical sandwiches:** Give him time! Once the movie comes out, he's going to be unstoppable. XD.

 **UGX7:** Yeah, the roughness is unavoidable. I think it came out well, considering the speed with which I wrote it. Thanks for the honesty.

 **MattPrice01:** Thanks! That line pretty much sums up most of the intros from here on out.

* * *

The engines on the Fat Controller's railway love Brendam Docks! It's the best place to get drunk that isn't the Sidings. There's always lots of work to keep them busy, even if half the time they don't actually do said work. Visitors to the Island often arrive here, because, well, it's a dock. Salty regales them with tales of his adventures at sea (Much as they would wish to never hear them ever again) and Gordon then pulls them about because that's all that they are good for.

One day, the Fat Controller decided to screw with the timetables and dragged some of the engines up to Brendam to see the unloading of something special. The exciting new toy- I mean, arrival, was being unloaded by Cranky the Barely Functioning Alcoholic Crane.

The special was heavy.

"OI!"

Oh, grow up, it's not personal.

"This makes my chain ache!" snarled Cranky. He was ignored, again, and decided to start writing a very emotional blog post about his feelings.

"This is 'Arvey! The Drain Engine!" The Fat Controller swayed a little bit, having had quite a lot to drink the previous night, and therefore having a little trouble with using words the way that they were intended. "Ahem. Harvey. Crane Engine. There we are." He glanced back to the large group of soulless executives in suits, who merely wrote down the words 'marketable' on their clipboards.

The other engines thought Harvey looked weird. They were very judgemental. And with a face like Percy's too, you would have expected a bit of sympathy for the poor sod. Said poor sod was just happy to be on the ground, he didn't like dangling from the depressing crane's arm. He flexed the crane part of him and waved at the others.

"These gentlemen are from the Railway Board!" declared the Fat Controller. "I know! I didn't know we had one of these either! Considering all the accidents that have been had-" He shuddered and shook his head. "Anyroad, tomorrow, Harvey will give them a demonstration! Of what, mind, I have no idea. If all goes well, he'll join us full time. And if not, we're throwing him back in the sea and weeping, because you have no idea how much money we've wasted on this potential 'fool's errand'.

"What's a dimmerstation!?" Percy paused. "Wow, I am really dumb today. Damn you, head trauma!"

"De-Mon-Stra-Tion. It's when you show off what you can do. You know, like how the big engines constantly show why they should be sent to a retirement home or the like."

"Or when Thomas and I have a RACE!" Bertie bellowed. Yeah, I'm not sure why Bertie was still there. "VAROOM VAROOM!" He proceeded do a few wheelies, before smacking Cranky's support structure.

"Bertie, I'm not enabling your racing fixation anymore!" Thomas groaned. "Come on, I suppose we'd better head back and actually try and do something. For once."

...

That night, Thomas arrived back at the sheds to get some kip. He noticed Harvey standing off to the side near the works shed, on his own. He could tell that the crane engine could hear what the other engines were saying in the actual sheds.

"Harvey's...different." said Henry, cautiously aware that Gordon was going into full blown paranoia at the moment.

"Okay, so he doesn't look a thing like an engine!" Edward was aware that the Out of Character Fairy was doing her work well tonight, but plowed on. "Gordon, does that really mean that we should be barricading the shed doors like this?! He's not a zombie for god's sake!"

"That shows what you know! What if the Fat Controller lets him pull coaches? It is just one small step from that to ERADICATING THE ENGINE RACE! WE MUST PREPARE, FOR THE END TIME HAVE COMETH! THE END IS NIGH!"

James too was in the midst of a paranoid breakdown. "He's just Cranky on wheels! He's the SPAWN OF CRANKY! HE HAS COME TO AVENGE HIS FATHER FOR ALL THOSE JOKES WE MADE!"

"HE'S NOT TAKING MY MAIL!" screeched Percy, who was just going along for the hell of it.

Thomas was very depressed. What did it come to that HE was the calmest and most accepting engine on the Island at the moment? He decided to put on his After School Special voice. "Don't worry, sometimes it takes time to make new friends! ...And also, for people to stop being so PARANOID!" And off he rolled into the shed.

Head first into a wall.

"MOTHERFU-"

But Harvey was depressed. He didn't have time. He wasn't sure he wanted to stay where no one wanted him.

He had yet to see the piles of money he would get for all of the merchandise he would be getting.

...

The next morning, he spoke to the Fat Controller. He tried to ignore the heated glares he was getting from Gordon and James, who appeared to be stockpiling large quantities of holy water and silver bullets. Just on chance. "Maybe my coming here wasn't such a good idea sir. I mean, James hissed at me earlier. And tried to bite me. It was very confusing, really."

"NONSENSE!" said the Fat Controller, so cross that his mouth was in danger of falling off his face. "I've spent too much money- I mean, grown to like you so much! I will not have it!" He got down on his knees. "PLEASE DON'T BUGGER THIS UP FOR ME!"

"But the engines don't like me! They think I'm different!"

"They hate everyone! It's nothing personal! Different is what makes you special!"

Harvey felt...somewhat better. Not much. But a little.

...

"OH WHY DID I THINK THAT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?!"

Out on the branch-line, Percy was having trouble with trucks. Needless to say, he really should have reconsidered pulling the trucks up while facing them. That just seemed to be a recipe for disaster every time he did so. He was currently rushing down the hill like a greased up sledge.

"FASTER WE GO! FASTER WE GO! PULL EM ALONG, DON'T LET EM SLOW! God, we're running out of ideas, lads."

"Help! Police! Murder!" As his driver applied the brakes, Percy hit a bump in the rails and went flying off the rails not too far from Bulgy's Bridge. Bulgy himself was currently lying on the ground and regretting most of his life choices. This is why he isn't appearing on camera.

"It's raining trucks- HOLYSHIT IT'S RAINING TRUCKS!" screamed Bertie, who veered off the road and onto the grass, killing three chickens and a goose that lay in his path. PETA was going to give him hell for this later. He was relieved that Percy hadn't killed himself, but he was also a bit of a prat, and was therefore angry that the road was blocked.

Especially considering that the Railway Board were staring at his driver like they were trying to take his soul.

...

When the Fat Controller heard the news, he hid under his desk for half an hour. Then he got in his car and drove into a signalbox as he rushed to get Harvey. "Bloody stupid engine has crashed! I need you to do your thing! Whatever the hell that is!"

"I'll do my best sir!" And off Harvey set.

"WAIT UP I HAVEN'T TOLD YOU WHERE TO GO!"

And once the Fat Controller had done that, off Harvey set in the right direction this time. He arrived at Bulgy's Bridge, and ignored the screams of horror from some of the more...sensitive townsfolk. He went to work.

"OW!"

After hitting Percy in the head with his crane arm, mind.

As Harvey lifted Percy, and every truck, back onto the track, the Railway Board began to see a lot of pound signs in front of them. "WE APPROVE." They said, as one. The Fat Controller beamed, and hoped that the Gentlemen of the Railway Board would finally have an expression on their face that wasn't the blank stare that they had had since coming here.

At last, when Harvey had lifted all of the trucks back onto the rails (Save for the brakevan, which now could make a passable career as firewood), the Fat Controller ran up the hill. He tripped several times, and at one point banged his head on the sleeper, but at last he made it up to face Harvey. "That...that...oh goodness gracious, give me a moment." He held a hand up as he inhaled deeply. "Best bloody demonstration ever! The Gentlemen of the Railway Board have decided that you shall become a toy- Er, join the railway!"

"Oh, thank you sir!" said Harvey. "I get to spend a lot of time with the asses who mocked me for my hideous appendage whose addition to my body I had no control over!"

"You need to learn to look on the bright side of life!" The Fat Controller frowned. "Mind, speaking of hideous appendages, where's Carlin?"

...

"OHHHHH that's the stuff! Keep em coming, Rose!"

"Mr Carlin, aren't you supposed to be driving the engine at the moment?"

"Aren't you supposed to be getting me more beer at the moment?"

"Fair enough."

"So...um...why'd you bother coming back if you're just going to sneak off to the pub and get drunk, then?" The fireman looked at Carlin, who was now on the verge of collapsing off his stool, and wondered to himself if remaining Percy's fireman had really been worth it.

Carlin didn't answer. "This is the f**King stuff!" He slurred, as he chugged down his twelfth glass of the hour. He grinned, held the glass aloft...and then toppled backwards in a dead fate.

The fireman sighed, and got out his wallet.

...

That time, Harvey heard the engines talking again. Which was not hard considering that he was sitting right next to them. But this time, it was different.

"Well done, Harvey!" said Gordon. "I NEVER doubted you for a second!"

"Very useful!" wheedled James through gritted eeth.

"You can take my mail!" Percy said, having taken a bump to the head and being slightly behind everyone conversationally wise.

"Ehhhhhh...six out of ten." Henry muttered, under his breath.

"You see-" whispered Thomas, looking dead on into the camera for the inevitable PSA that was to be made from this footage "-different can be good. Within reason! Now they know-"

"And knowing is half the battle!" Edward agreed.

"WELCOME TO THE RAILWAY HARVEY!" The engines said, and fell into argument about how the hell they had managed to say that in unison. Harvey smiled happily and relaxed.

Unfortunately, Harvey drank so much at this makeshift party that his voice ended up deepening and he randomly gained a Scottish accent that would slowly develop over the next year or so. Donald and Douglas were happy. So was Harvey, as he had been feeling as though he was lacking in the personality department a little. The others not so much, as that meant that yet another rowdy Scot with a drinking habit was let loose on the Island.

Which just goes to show...something.


	3. Episode 3: No Sleep for Cranky

And we're back! I'm trying something knew today, figured that it might be interesting to give the other engines something to do in certain episodes. It's nothing serious, just a few little moments here and there to perhaps build up character a little bit. Also, I've officially decided on a Cranky portrayal that isn't 'Angry Crane', because that really doesn't make him that much different from anyone else. This on the other hand...I legitimately feel bad for him when writing this. Now, review time!

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** Thank you! Glad you enjoyed!

 **AaronCottrell97:** These are questions that the world aren't quite ready to answer!

 **Reality Rejection Service:** The Out of Character Fairy is her niece, actually. Considering that the HIT entertainment era's coming up, Karma wants to give her a little work experience. And fair enough, I have no real problems with Harvey, it's just that at the time I was writing the episode, I didn't have much in store for him. By the time he appears again in Season 7, I'll have something for him.

 **TrainManiac:** That actually doesn't sound stupid at all! Something I did want to try and do with Season 6 is to bring back the irreverent feel of series one and two, with Season 7 perhaps introducing the story-line proper like Season 2 did. I don't hate Post-Season 5 Thomas...in the Classic form. Season 6 is perfectly fine, and a nice quiet return to relatively sedate storytelling. It's just that I think Season 6 and 7 aren't as good as the previous five seasons, but that's not to say they're not great and miles ahead of where the show would be for the next decade or so. Harvey is actually going to get a proper character come Season 7, it was just that unlike Salty, he didn't make much of a impact beyond the cool look in his debut season. Hope that clears things up!

 **Game-Watch:** Oh don't worry, that's going to be...addressed, at some point.

 **Radical sandwiches:** Yeah, it's going to be interesting. Still not entirely sure what my plan is for those characters, but I'll work something out by the time I get to them. Glad you liked the Carlin scenes!

 **MattPrice01:** Fun fact, I've considered quite a few times having the engines go to therapy as one of the running storylines throughout the series. James is definitely paranoid, and no mistake. And I absolutely agree with your thoughts on the Power Rangers movie. I could have used more actual fighting, but I appreciate that they gave the characters chance to breathe before getting to the good stuff. Cheered when the original theme came back too, and I'd love to see more of them. And as to references...well, just wait and see. Wink.

 **Hughie96:** Thanks mate! I love Season 6, but it's not one of my favorite seasons of Thomas. Hence my mocking of it, but only in a affectionate way. It's far better than what is to come. Hope you enjoy this!

* * *

Brendam Docks is one of the busiest dockyards on the island of Sodor. By which I mean, it is the only dockyard on the Island of Sodor at the moment. Hatt had had to save money by making sure that there was only one big dropping off point for people who came via ferry. So not only did they have to endure the rough seas, rougher weather and roughest people crewing the boat, they then had to get out and spend a long journey with Gordon.

The docks is also where ships come to unload their cargo, and where everyone has to work hard day and night, every day of the year. All the while a massive sign reading 'DON'T FORGET, YOU'RE HERE FOREVER, YOU CHEAP BASTARDS' glowed brighter than the lighthouse.

After the camera crew had blown all of the money for the season on a impressive looking tracking shot of the docks, they were promptly sent home to sober up. Britt was forced to send Mike and Junior, the musicians, out to play their latest song 'Down by the Docks' to earn some money to which to pay the rest of her staff. She winced. She did not need this now.

Speaking of not needing this now, Cranky the Crane was feeling sorry for himself. He was having random flashbacks to when he had first come onto the Island, and he had tried to kill Thomas. Good times. But that had been the high-point of his time here, and he had spent the next four years or so rapidly going out of his mind. He got absolutely no-sleep, and was on the verge of declaring "SOD THIS!" and swimming for Dover. It didn't help that the only company he ever seemed to get that stayed for more than three minutes were the gulls that sat on his arm...and then left him presents whenever it was time to leave.

And so Cranky (Get this, this is a real original joke, been told NEVER before in the history of mankind. You ready?) is always Cranky!

...Where's the applause? Ugh.

...

On this day, Cranky was busy doing what he normally did: lowering pipes onto flatbeds, and leaving long and elaborate suicide notes for when he inevitably faked his own death. Not for the first time, he considered if there was a rhyme for 'garrulous' or something of the like.

"WHY SHIVER ME TIMBERS!"

"Oh GOD!" Cranky looked down at the water. Perhaps if he nudged forward, he could drown before he had to acknowledge Salty.

"Ahoy there, Cranky!" called Salty. "Avast, tis a fine sunrise, laddie!"

"How much can I pay you to leave me alone?" begged the crane, desperately wondering if he should just kill Salty and let it be over with. Being in jail could not be as bad for him as doing his job at the moment. He took a deep breath. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?" he snapped, trying to sound his usual oppressive self.

"An' a fine one it is too!" Salty said, ignoring Cranky, as was the wont of most engines when confronted with the crane. Said crane didn't think things could get much worse-

And somewhere, Karma started giggling with glee.

Sodor's answer to the Chuckle Brothers, Bill and Ben, arrived full of their usual mischief. They quickly sized up the situation, and realized that torturing Cranky with Salty was far more fun than torturing the both of them. Cranky began to sob, pathetically. "HURRY UP!" He wailed.

"You're no fun at all!" Bill said, mastering the art of the understatement.

"FUN!? FUN!? IF YOU WERE STUCK UP HERE, YOU'D SEE JUST HOW FAR FUN CAN GET YOU! I'M NOT BLOODY PAID TO BE FUN! I'M...not paid...at all..." Cranky proceeded to go through a minor breakdown as he realized that he was doing all of this for less than peanuts! Dover clearly wasn't going to be far enough. He wondered if they had need for cranes in Luxembourg.

"So that's why you're cranky!" Bill declared, wickedly grinning.

"You're lonely, you big ol' teddy bear!" Ben cackled.

"I! AM! NOT! LONELY!" shrieked Cranky, who was, but would rather have syphilis than have to deal with Bill and Ben for any period longer than ten minutes per day.

"So 'tis company ye need then!" Salty remarked. One might almost have thought he was doing this deliberately. "Reminds me 'o a lonely 'n frustrated barnacle-covered Great Banks lighthouse keeper!"

"NO! NOT ANOTHER STORY!" screamed the hapless crane. "ANYTHING BUT THAT" No, he decided, Timbuktoo sounded great right now. Apart from all the rumors of there being a huge horde of talking technicolor animals living there, it seemed like paradise to him.

"Please tell us, Salty! We haven't heard that one!" said the tormenting twins.

"Twas in th' middle 'o a wee tricky storm, th' likes 'o which be rarely seen in 'tis here lifetime!" Salty had clearly not lived very long on the Island, as he would have learnt that storms such as that happened on an monthly basis. But this story caused Cranky to snap, and he swung his arm about with reckless abandon, seeming to ignore the large wire that had been installed at great cost by the production team to get a good camera angle.

Unfortunately, he was still holding the pipes in his hook.

Somewhere, a sarcastic bastard began playing a mock-drum roll as the chains holding the pipes twirled for a moment...and then snapped. They missed the trucks completely, hitting the tracks and rolling towards the shed where the engines usually slept. "Whoops." Cranky whimpered, meekly.

"Arrr, ouch!" declared Salty, as the shed toppled over and hit him on the back. "You've blown tha main now, matey!"

The engines were trapped! DUN DUN DA.

"You're going to get in trouble!" chanted Bill and Ben maturely.

Cranky decided to start writing out his will.

...

"Sir, urgent-" Carlin stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him. "Erm...should I leave and come back again?"

"For god's sake, Carlin!" snapped the Fat Controller, as Tailor Norris moved forward with his measuring tape erect (No, that's not a euphermism, but it should be). "You act like you've never seen a man getting measured for a new suit before!"

"Not...quite as intimately as that, sir, but...f**k what was my point? Oh yeah, Cranky's destroyed a shed."

"Shit." muttered Sir Topham. "Sorry Tailor, must dash! We'll finish up that waistcoat tomorrow, if you don't mind!" And off he strode to his car. He was halfway to the docks before he realized that the tape measure was still wrapped around his body. He didn't care though. He knew that any delay at the docks could cause confusion. Even more so than usual.

"BLOODY NORA, LOOK AT THIS MESS, CRANKY!" He shouted through a megaphone.

"I'm sorry sir, but the megaphone really isn't necessary, you know-"

"I don't care, I LOVE MEGAPHONES, IT GIVES ME A TASTE OF POWER! Mwahahahaha! You lot will have to stay here for the night until Harvey gets off his arse and clears the mess up in the morning! ...He's got a photo shoot all night, so he can't come tonight...well, goodnight all!"

"SIR! PLEASE!"

But the Fat Controller had already abandoned Cranky to his fate.

"SLEEPOVER!" the twins screamed gleefully.

"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo..." sobbed Cranky. His heart sank, as Salty uttered the fateful words:

"That reminds me of a story!"

"God, I wonder if the others are having as much fun as I am right now!" Bill whispered to Ben.

...

MEANWHILE, AT TIDMOUTH SHEDS.

"Sex! Blood! Drugs! Alcohol! MUUUUURDER! This show will have it all, let me tell you that! It will be a deep and socially damaging movie that will make us question what it is to be human...and it'll have a ton of action setpieces that will make Tarantino crap himself!"

"Gordon-" Edward said, patiently "-I doubt the Blyton Estate will go for this retelling of the Famous Five. And seeing as we nearly got sued for the anti-crane engine sentiment we used last time, when my words were taken out of context, I am not really looking forward to another legal battle!"

"But...But Edward, it's perfect! Imagine Arnold Schwarzenegger as Julian!"

"No."

"Steven Seagal as Dick!"

"Nope."

"Jeri Ryan as-"

"Look, with the greatest of respect, Gordon, I can't say 'No' more clearly than I am saying it!"

"You're full of shit, Edward!"

Edward took a deep breath, counted to ten inside his head and tried to get rid of the images of beating Gordon's face in until there was nothing left but a bleeding mass of tissue. Then he asked his driver to plug in his headphones and dial the volume up to maximum, so he could watch a Poirot episode in (relative) peace.

...

"It was a bitter cold winter, colder than a penguin in a fridge! 'n th' barnacle-covered freighter was stuck 'til th' ice had melted th' next sprin'! He sailed 'n sailed 'n sailed 'n, oh guess what, sailed, 'til after a hundred days at sea, he crashed into docks 'n came to rest not fifteen feet away from me buffers!"

"Wait, hang about...you're telling the story of my first day! I was the one who got bloody knocked down by that massive boat, not you, you...glory hog!"

"LUCKILY!" said Salty, loudly, to drown out the noise of Cranky pointing out plot holes/plot hiccups. "No one was hurt!"

"Except my ears and my sense of dignity!" wailed Cranky.

"Oh that old cliche!" muttered Bill. "It's not fun if they feel the need to add that reassurance! I want people to be hurt, damn it!"

And so Salty went on and on all night, telling stories of saucy seadogs, of chases, races and runaways, of capisizings and maroons and sodomy galore (In great detail) and all the while, Cranky comprised a poem. It reads thusly.

A Poem.

By Cranky.

 **Aaaaaaaaargh!**  
 **Aaaaaaaaargh!**  
 **Aaaaaaaaargh!**  
 **Aaaaaaaaargh!**

Beautiful, I'm sure you agree.

By the time the sun had rose, Salty hadn't stopped to draw breath. He was still talking and talking away. Impressively, the three engines had not needed one bit of sleep that night. Unlike a certain crane, who was now trying to hang himself. He was aware that this was impossible, but he felt that he had to try at some point.

"I can't take any more!" Cranky creaked desperately. He suddenly let out a howl of delight as Harvey arrived, shining and clean from the launch party that had been held after the photo shoot.

"The Fat Controller has sent me to help you!" He said. He paused, and then took another drink of the Ultimate Scottish Accent Elixir: Irn Bru. "HOOTS MON!" He bellowed, and proceeded to lift the shed up at high speeds. Cranky, meanwhile, was so gleeful at the fact that the engines would be leaving soon that he forgot to be his namesake.

"I'll never misbehave again as long as you get that THING away from me!"

...

And after the magic of editing, Cranky did his job rather well. He carefully lowered the cargo onto the trucks, sped the engines on their way and said please and thank you through very gritted teeth. It was a minor miracle that the docks were relatively productive for once!

"So...this is new." Thomas muttered to Percy.

He had spoken too soon. Percy nearly wet himself as the pipes clanged down in front of him. He tried his best to keep a smile on his face, so that he would look cool and daring on camera. "Ah well...it was nice while it lasted!"

And all the engines laughed, while Cranky was still cranky (HA!) and proceeded to suffer a nervous breakdown that resulted in nice men in white coats taking him for a temporary stay in the funny farm to calm him down a little.

Once again, there is a moral to this story. And once again, sod me if I know what it is.


	4. Episode 4: Harold's Bad Day

So, this chapter might not be that good. The episode it's based off of is fine, but it's not got much happening in there. So, I hope you enjoy, but next time should be a good episode for introducing yet another new character. Also, at the end of this chapter, you're going to hear the first rumblings of the new storyline that links the seasons together, so...there's that!

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** Answers on a postcard, please!

 **AaronCottrell97:** So am I! Already got my plan for Season 7 in mind. ...Actually, that is a point, does anyone have a reason for the insane amount of stock footage? I wouldn't usually ask, but it's so obvious that it does raise questions.

 **Reality Rejection Service:** It's a very complicated family tree.

 **TrainManiac:** Writing it made me rethink my entire attitude up until now. Glad it had a similar effect!

 **Game-Watch:** Very possibly.

 **UGX7:** Absolutely. He just comes across as so pathetically sympathetic that it's both parts comedic and tragic.

 **Radical sandwiches:** Yeah, this one was meant to be a bit sadistic. Poor Cranky, he never gets an inch.

 **MattPrice01:** That's fine, I'm glad you got your work done on time. Still struggling with finishing up my stuff for college on time, so I feel your pain. The Baldrick poem was definitely a intro, but another one was Rik Mayall's 'poetry' sketch.

 **Hughie96:** That sounds about right!

 **Reid007:** Sums up pretty much my entire idea of what Cranky is going to be from this point on.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

"All right, who did I piss off?"

Mavis laughed. "Come on Toby. You were all smiles when you told me I was taking care of Bill and Ben for the foreseeable future!" Toby growled at this, and angrily biffed the trucks forward. Bill and Ben were currently singing aloud a song they had learnt from Salty.

For taste's sake, I won't print it here.

"WHAT HO, CHAPS?!" The four engines threw themselves to the ground (As much as they could do, anyway) as Harold swung over them, gaily rushing by with not a care in the world.

"Is he STILL riding the high from that Shining Time incident?" Mavis scoffed as she got her breath back. Toby nodded, for he was currently coughing up quarry dust, and had no chance to speak.

...

Harold the Helicopter loves to fly. This would have been very awkward had he been made a steamroller instead, but as luck would have it, he was not. High up in the blue sky, high on the altitude and on his own smug attitude, he was often seen making an nuisance of himself. Such was the case here, as he appeared to be rattling around for no reason whatsoever.

He swooped down over James. "Hallo James!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

James was quite jumpy, in case you couldn't tell. Harold, anyway, looks out for anyone in distress. Except for those that he causes distress to. As he circled around, he headed towards Toby once more.

"Hi Harold. Again."

"Hallo old chap! Anything I can do!"

Toby hoped that Percy would forgive him for what he was about to say. "Well...the thing is, that while you can't do anything for me, personally, I think that Percy is in need of your help!"

"Capital thinking, old chap!" And off he went. Sometimes he helped Percy with the mail. That had to be what Percy wanted him for. He failed to notice Toby picking up speed and racing away in the opposite direction, with Henrietta complaining fiercely.

...

"I'm walking on sunshine! WOAH! I'm walking on- Oh, it's you."

"Percy, my good man!" said Harold, quite immune to the death glare of the little tank engine. He looked around and raised an eyebrow up. "The mail run is done!? Already!? Is there any more? I can take it! That's what friends are for, doncha know!?"

"I hope you drown in a slurry pit!" snarled Carlin.

"Delivering the mail is an engine's job!" snapped Percy. Duck, who was passing by, gave the little green engine a look that screamed 'Seriously? This again?' to all who saw it. Percy stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry.

Unfortunately, someone screwed up the timing, and so Percy was shoved out into the cold light of dawn to deliver the mail once more. He has many jobs, but carrying the mail is now his schtick, so he has to enjoy it the most. One of the downsides of not having had much sleep was that Carlin was being even worse at his job than usual. It was the only reason to explain why he was travelling along the coastal path. Unless the fish wanted a parcel to be delivered.

"Must be on time, must be on time!" Percy muttered to himself. His head injury was acting up, and he felt as though his brain was about to burst. Up ahead, there was trouble with the signalbox.

"Oh look, Percy, it's a f**king backing signal!"

"Shut up, Carlin! Oi, Norris, how long is this going to take?"

The signal-engineers didn't have a clue as to that. Then again, this was the Island of Sodor. It was quite impressive that anyone had even bothered to come to the scene of the confusion. It wasn't safe to run without a signal, but Percy was still being a whiny little baby.

"I'm going to be late!" he declared.

"So am I! Mr Daniels and I have an intense date with each other at the Smokey Joe Inn!"

"And it's not even my fault! It'll get blamed on me though-"

...

To cut a long bout of whining short, we return to the Fat Controller's office. He was enjoying his toast and marmalade when he heard the news. "Yeh whot iz icht?" He spoke into the telephone.

"Pardon me, have I accidentally connected to Germany again?"

The Fat Controller swallowed. "I said "Yeah, who is it?" you dope."

"Oh. Hi sir. Signal's down. And the mail train's running through it."

"PERCY IS STUCK AT A BROKEN SIGNAL!"

"Yes. Yes, I know that, sir, that's what I just told you. Look, shall I call the doctor, sounds like you're coming down with a bad case of the Expositions! It's terrible this time of year!"

"Send Harold to fetch the mail! And don't bother me again! It's toast and marmalade o'clock!"

...

The last time that Percy had been held up (At gunpoint. A long story) Harold had taken the mail and been even smugger than usual about it. It was quite an embarrassing situation to say the least. "It made me feel like a really useless engine!" He declared.

"Oh, more so than usual."

"God, I liked you better when you were far away, Carlin."

"Yeah, f**k you too. Mail's gotta arrive on time, or else there'll be hell to pay. Well, for me, anyway. You can just stand there staring blandly into space for the rest of your life if you feel like it."

Then, they heard a familiar sound coming from above. The orchestra were busy blasting them with their Harold theme. And sure enough,Harold hovered into view, currently a nine on the Smug-o'meter.

"Hallo, you poor chap! It's a rum job and no mistake! Fat Controller says that I'm needed to take the mail! That's what friends are for, eh, wot?"

"Ohhhhh hoooooooo!" wailed Percy, acting his little heart out. But Fat Hatt had made his mind up, and there was nothing that Percy could do about it. Save for killing Harold, and that was a bit extreme even by Sodor standards. The pilot enlisted Carlin to load the mail bags into Harold's cargo net. Carlin was quite blunt about how much he hated doing this. He was allergic, he claimed, to hard work.

"We'll take the mailbags a few at a time! They're very heavy, and honestly, I like getting to rub Carlin's failure in his face."

"Thanks for that, Reece." snarled Carlin. The two of them had been at school together. Reece had many jobs, pilot for Harold, bartender, assistant to Cyril the Fogman...and constant thorn in the grey-haired driver's side.

Harold scoffed at this. "I'd have to make too many trips! I'd be as slow as Percy! And besides, look at the chap! There's only so many times one can gaze upon Percy and not weep, eh? Hahaha! Oh, chin up, Perce!

"PISS OFF!"

Carlin suddenly got a very wicked idea. "Okay Reece! Your helicopter wants all the mailbags? He gets all the mailbags!" And so he loaded every single bag into the net, and stepped back, gleefully rubbing his hands and cackling to himself. And all the while, the engineer continued to work on the signal.

Harold pulled the bags up, wheezing as he did so. "By Agatha Christie's hairnet, this is heavy!" He gasped.

"IT'S FIXED!" cried the signal-engineer, as the signal snapped back into place.

"WAIT HAROLD!"

It was too late.

Percy groaned, and began imagining all the mocking things that the others would say when he got back to the sheds. As you can imagine, there were a lot of possibilities with that thought process. He was a bit uspet.

And then, he heard the distinct sound of an engine stalling. Everyone watched, open mouthed in surprise, as Harold began to stagger about like a drunk after a tilt-a-whirl. They also heard Reece bellow. "WATCH OUT HAROLD! And then a loud- "OH BUGGER!" as he jumped from the cockpit to safety.

"Too heavy!" wheezed Harold. The net smacked right into a clump of trees, ripping itself free from Harold and sending the helicopter flopping down to the ground.

"Harold's in trouble! And if you don't want to go to jail, Carlin, you'll help save him!" And Percy started off, passing a rather amused James. They soon saw why he was amused. Harold was currently buried in a large pile of hay, spitting and cursing everyone and everything. "Are you all right?" asked Percy, aware of how redundant this was.

"SOMEONE. GET ME OUT OF THIS BLOODY HAYSTACK!" sputtered Harold. "On the plus side, I've found a few needles in here!"

And Percy set off, as fast as his wheels would let him. Carlin tried to look guilty, and failed. He had no regrets whatsoever.

...

The next day, Harold's engine was fixed and he was flying again. The other engines grinned at him, causing him to self-consciously avert his gaze towards Percy. IF he was hoping for some sympathy, he wasn't getting any.

"Fancy taking the mail again? I'll stand by with the rescue team! And also a trampoline!"

Amidst the laughter, Harold hovered closer, so low that only Percy could hear him. "Thanks for getting me out of that haystack, old chap."

Percy decided to throw him a bone. "That's all right. What are friends for?"

Then Harold's blades nicked the side of Percy, ruining the moment somewhat.

...

"Britt?"

"David! You got the footage we wanted, right?"

"Yes, yes, it all looks good. I mean, I wish we could do something a bit more challenging artistically, but still...look, there's someone on the phone who says it's urgent that he talks to you."

"Oh, that could be anybody!" Britt focused on making sure that her wellies were on securely. "There's some muddy area that we're supposed to go to, I've got a feeling that there's a story there!"

"He said it was about Gullane. And...I don't know, it was weird." David looked a little put out. Britt frowned, and reluctantly held out a hand to take the phone. David shrugged, and turned around to get his coat on.

"Hello? ...HIT Entertainment? Oh, lovely to meet you. So, erm, why are you calling me?"


	5. Episode 5: Elizabeth the Vintage Lorry

So! This episode is, as it turns out, a lot shorter than I remember it. You'll note that, once again, the actual parts that I've adapted are relatively short. Elizabeth is an interesting character, albeit one who I am struggling to get a grasp on. So, that's a work in progress. One of the things that always bothered me as a kid was that she gets away with a lot more than characters like Cranky and Gordon do, when they're grumpy.

Also, at the end, we've got another big hint of how the storyline is going to start. For some of the shorter episodes, I might include little scenes like this. And it also helps lead us into the next episode, so that's neat.

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** Thanks!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yep! Reece was surprisingly fun to write for! He's definitely popping up back again!

 **Reality Rejection Service:** NO one is safe from karma!

 **Game-Watch:** You're not wrong! It's incredibly complicated.

 **UGX7:** Yeah, ominous, ain't it? That certainly sounds plausible, but it is bizarre nonetheless. I almost wonder if it was meant for a parting gift for the fans, but what do I know?

 **Radical sandwiches:** Which is fair enough. It's not like A Surprise For Percy, where I genuinely consider it to be a weak episode, it's perfectly fine, there's just not much to it. Harold getting a proper punishment for his arrogance was also something that I loved when I was younger.

 **MattPrice01:** Carlin's a lovely character to write for, mainly because I can usually write my own opinions and filter them through his unique worldview. Namely a blurry one because he's drunk as a skunk!

 **BronzeShield:** Don't worry about it! I get it, I should have been a bit clearer. Glad you're enjoying it!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

"So...what was that about?"

"Hmm?" Britt shrugged it off. "Oh, I'll tell you later." She turned away, looking more than a little troubled. David hesitated, wondered whether to push it, and then decided to leave her for the moment.

Thomas the Tank Engine enjoys taking specials. Especially if they're special specials that are specially for special engines who like pulling special specials as much as he does. Got tired of the word 'special' yet? Too bad, get used to it. Today, he was pulling cargo to Brendam Docks. Why he didn't just stick to the coastal route instead of having to weave and bob around the Island is anyone's guess. It was meant to go on a cargo ship at sundown, so for whatever reason he had waited until midday to realize "Crap, I have to do work!" and then hurry off to collect his load.

Britt and David ducked down as Duck rushed by with coaches. They were in a rather uncomfortable part of the brakevan, and they were aware of how likely it was that they were going to get abused should anything bad happen.

Which it always did.

The load was very heavy, unsurprisingly, and he struggled on. It hadn't helped that he'd had three drinks of strong stuff before setting off, so he was a little out of breath any way. In fact, he puffed so hard, that there was a loud pop and both his siderods snapped completely. No, we know that the script said that they were coupling rods, but they are not. They are siderods. PAY ATTENTION, ANGELIS. GET OFF THE BOOZE.

"Bugger!" He shouted. "Now I know how Edward feels!"

"You never will!" shouted Edward, halfway across the Island.

"I'll be late!" Thomas was hoping to get a BAFTA nomination. He'd be waiting a very long time. Then, his driver spotted an old shed that looked like one of Toby's old places, except even worse.

"Ha! I can take a leak in there! ...Oh, and also if there's a telephone, I'll call for help. Yeah, that too!"

"Hurry!" snapped Thomas. "I'd like not to have my face chewed off by Tall Fat and Grumpy in the top hat! Besides, it looks a little spooky!"

"Oh yeah, like that's going to-"

"DO YOU MIND, EH?! I'M TRYING TO SLEEP!" The voice boomed from inside the shed, sending the fireman running back. He wanted his teddy bear and his blanket. Britt and David, realizing that the whole 'taking cargo to the docks' subplot was going to be wasted, rushed up to get some footage of a possible poltergeist killing Thomas. It would make great headlines.

Thomas, of course, did not think that way. As his driver poked his head back round, he asked: "Is it a ghost? Who we gonna call?"

"Ghostbusters! ...Sorry, always wanted to say that. Also, it's a surprise. Oi, mate, get some coal and stop quivering under there!" The fireman reluctantly did as he was bid. He swore as he entered.

"She could get us to the fitters and back again!"

"If her boiler doesn't give out! And I mean, look at her. She doesn't look sturdy, does she? In fact...what's the opposite of sturdy?"

"Shit."

"There we are. She looks like shit."

"Eh?! You whippersnappers! Why if I had my cane you'd have faces redder than blood right now!"

"What kind of bloody surprise is this!?" roared Thomas, who was getting bored out of his skull with how long this was taking. Likewise, Britt and David were slightly disappointed that it clearly wasn't a poltergeist, and they wouldn't be getting shots of Thomas being mercilessly blown up.

"Thomas! Meet Elizabeth!"

"What's her majesty doing in there!?"

"You're an idiot!" cawed the voice. And out steamed a dirty, grimy, old steam lorry that looked as though she had never had a happy thought in her life.

"So...you're the little puffed up puffer that's broken down!" Elizabeth sniffed haughtily. Thomas turned purple with rage, and was about to climb off the rails and fight her when the driver held up a placating hand.

"And you're just an old sentinel lorry who's clearly lost her marbles!"

"VINTAGE! Vintage sentinel lorry! Tramp! And I haven't got much time to get your side-rods, so toodles!" And off she set. At a snail's pace, which allowed Britt and David to climb on board. They winced, as did the driver, at the horrible grinding noises that came from inside Elizabeth's engine.

"She's not built for hills!" the driver announced helpfully. He called to Elizabeth. "You're losing steam! Really, it would have been easier for me to get out and run! Hindsight's a bitch!

"Just...catching my breath!" she gasped.

It took three hours, but they finally made it over the hill, even if the driver did feel five years older now.

...

When she had returned with Thomas's side-rods, she was pleased with herself. She was the only one who was. "Next time, don't be so careless!" Thomas was now eggplant purple, he thought her the rudest lorry he had ever met. And considering that he had met three that had tried to kill the entire Island, that said a lot. He was very happy to get his new side-rods, and he started off.

"You took your time!" shouted James, as he passed on by.

"Piss off!" Thomas snarled, as he made it to the docks just in time.

"Where the hell have you been!?" snapped the Fat Controller. Thomas told him, sobbing all the way, about his side-rods, and was just about to tell him about Elizabeth when she rolled up. Somehow.

"Oh. It's you. Learned how to drive yet, Fatty?"

"She's for it now!" cackled Thomas, vengefully.

"ELIZABETH!" Hatt looked happier than anyone had seen him in years. "My very first lorry! I thought you had been lost, and Lowham had sold you for spare parts for his human sized jack-in-the-box years ago!"

It was too much for Thomas, who stormed off to have a sulk in the sheds

Elizabeth, meanwhile, told the Fat Controller about how she had been shut up in the sheds because of her attitude problem. And the Fat Controller, drunk on nostalgia, told Jem Cole to fix her up to her original beauty.

One fix-up later, and after Elizabeth had made Trevor wish he had been scrapped, she had a rich dark color and gleaming coachworks. She looked better than ever. Which wasn't saying much, really.

"You're the grandest lorry on the railway!" said Topham, proudly.

"I know!" said Elizabeth, even more proudly.

Thomas gritted his teeth, but even he had to admit, she did look grand. A pity about the attitude though. Sir Topham Hatt spent three minutes in her company and realized that he had made a terrible mistake. It was too late to undo it now. The Railway Board ordered merchandise up the wazoo to be constructed.

...

"You understand why you're both here, right?"

"Cake."

"Wine."

"Cake and wine!" said Edward and Duck together. They grinned at each other, and Toby shook his head in irritated amusement. It had taken a grand total of two weeks for the two engines to get over the awkwardness, and as a result, they had become cheerful comrades against insanity. Or CCAI, for short. Now, if only they had found a snappier title.

It was nice. And very annoying.

"That, yes. Also, because I want to bring to your attention something that I'm beginning to grow concerned about." Toby glanced about him, but the Sidings was mercifully empty right now. "The Railway Board."

"What about them?"

"...Well think about it. Now, I'm aware that I've only been on the central rail service now for eighteen years or so, and Edward's been here longer. But I can't recall a time prior to the start of the millenium when I heard of the Railway Board ever taking this much of an interest in things."

Edward frowned. "Now that you mention it, it does seem odd. There's always been a group of people who've helped fund the railway, between the nationalization and privatization flip-flops, but mostly they seemed to be...people in the background. Engines weren't voted on by them, they were just a by-product. Meant to keep the railway running on time."

"Exactly. And yet, right after that whole business with Diesel 10 and so on, they popped right up and started making decisions left and right. And not just little ones, like agreeing to Hatt's expansion of the Island."

Duck licked his lips. "That would explain why the stations damaged by the attack have been left mostly damaged for the time being. I mean, for what good Miss Jenny's been doing, there's still tons of places left abandoned...and there was what happened in the yard this morning." At the confused stares, he explained. "Some of the Board were looking at the engines as they were getting ready. They were shaking their heads at some, nodding at others. A bit like a cattle market, if you ask me. Considering their dedication to merch at this point, it wouldn't surprise me if they end up influencing the series some more"

"I'd think...we'd best keep an eye on them all, right?" Edward's declaration got nods from both of them. "And Duck, see if you can't get into contact with Scotsman."

"Will do."

And so the three of them departed, little knowing just how small this time of peace was going to last. But already, the Island's weather system was once again playing havoc, and the first few specks of snow were already beginning to fall...


	6. Episode 6: The Fogman

Ah, the Fogman. Probably one of my favorite episodes of Season 6 as a whole, and the first one that I can recall watching!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Something I am taking great care to do is to not villainize HIT. Primarily because, well, they're just people at the end of the day, doing their jobs. Hence why if I do include Sharon Miller at all in this story, it's going to be a very minor role. I don't make villains out of real life people. But yeah, the Railway Board are the first sign of trouble.

 **Reality Rejection Service:** You could be right! And the three of them are the ones holding the railway together, to be fair.

 **Game-Watch:** That's an actual plot point in the story! Primarily to explain the vast amount of one-off items and engines that pop up in the series.

 **BronzeShield:** Thanks! I am getting there. The shorter chapters are more a result of the comedic angle I'm going for. Once we reach HIT's era, they should start getting longer and longer.

 **TrainManiac:** Expect more mockery of the 'special' line to come! And yeah, Elizabeth just rubs me up the wrong way. It's why I'm glad she's not in that many episodes.

 **UGX7:** Yeah, I guess. Maybe it's just because I felt that the other characters who gave shit, like Duncan and Cranky, got their comeuppance, while she never did. Also, that theory wouldn't surprise me. Either one. The storyline's not going to factor in much in this season. Come Season 7, however, we'll be setting up more of the pieces.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

It was winter on the Island of Sodor. Or at least, it felt like it. The weird weather had completely destroyed the meaning of the Four Seasons. The snow clung to everything like a miser clings to money, and ice had already began to gather on the rails. But to make matters worse, the first fogs were rolling in from across the sea.

Now, while this was fine weather for Salty and people who were naturally opposed to meddling kids and their dumb dogs, this wasn't good for engines or humans. A temporary truce had been called between them all so as not to accidentally die due to some idiot's attempt at a prank. Especially seeing as Allcroft and Mitton were beginning to examine the Sodor Construction Company for a potential spinoff. And the engines wanted the eye very much on them, thank you very much.

Thomas, Annie and Clarabel love the quiet of Misty Valley. A place that you'd swore they had just made up out of nowhere if it weren't for the fact that the Island appeared to be growing more and more every day. It's magic, we don't have to explain it.

Thomas must be careful of rocks that might roll onto the tracks. And also of very stupid people who believe that shouting "STOP IN THE NAME OF LOVE!" while standing on a train track will prove to people who much they love them.

Rocks sometimes fall from the mountain and crush the rails (While looking suspiciously like Styrofoam carved into the shape of rocks and spray painted grey) so when that happens, there is only one man they can call.

Cyril.

Cyril the Fogman is the best. How come you've never heard of him before? Because Cyril the Fogman hasn't wanted you to know about him yet. It was said that when he wants to go to the moon, the moon comes to him. Either Cyril or Chuck Norris, either or. But anyway, his job is to lay down detonators on the tracks to warn the engines of what's to come.

Carlin had tried to help him once. He hadn't since, as apparently detonators did not mean 'Let's hide a ton of C4 beneath the line for a laugh'. Edward had had a little bit of a nervous breakdown following that incident.

So, say that Thomas is passing through the valley. And then-

BANG!

"MOTHER FU-THAT MADE MY AXLES TINGLE! Also, if I had the ability, I would have pissed myself!"

"Keep your axles in your pocket, Thomas." said his driver."Cyril's done his job, as he always does, so we'd better slow down!"

"THANK YOU CYRIL!" shouted Thomas. Cyril, who was there (Some people sleep. Cyril the Fogman lies in wait) waved goodbye, and started setting up more beartraps for any robbers who happened to try their luck against him.

...

That night, the Fat Controller had something special to show the engines. "I had nothing else to do except cry into my pillow, so I'm here with you guys. I wonder if I should rethink my life choices." Topham shrugged. "Observe, you lot. This will be on the test."

The thing was very large and strange looking. And judging by the fact that it had the words 'FOG' and 'WARNING DEVICE' written upon it, it was obvious to all and sundry what it was.

"WHAT IS IT!?"

Almost all and sundry.

"This, Percy, is a fog machine!"

"Are we holding a rock concert?!" Henry asked, cautiously enthusiastic.

"No! It's a railway fog horn, new invention by the lands at SIT! It warns you when there is fog about!" And he switched it on. For the next three minutes, the engines were bombarded by blast after blast of the horn. It was more painful sounding than an entire sermon by James on the matter of maintaining one's boiler to the proper standards. Tiles were shattered, small children started to cry, pregnant women went into labor, the firemen were called out (And called back in again, as they were rejects from Trumpton) and all wished that it would stop.

Even after it did, Percy's eyes continued to spin maniacally. "THAT'S LOUD!" he declared, master of the understatement.

"WHAT?!" shouted a deafened Henry.

"TOO LOUD!" James grumbled.

"WHAT?!"

"MORE LIKE A TUGBOAT TO ME!" snarled Gordon.

"WHAT?!"

"BUT SIR, WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO CYRIL?!"

"HE WILL BE RETIRED, BESIDES THIS FOGHORN IS THE FUTURE...also, stop shouting."

"WHAT?!"

"I SAID STOP SHOUTING!"

"WHAT?!"

"STOP SHOUTING!"

"WHAT!?"

"STOP. SHOUTING."

"WHAT!?"

"Poor Cyril!" wailed Thomas, dramatically. "HE'S BEEN SCRAPPED!"

"Get a grip, Thomas." said a very tired Duck.

...

The next morning, Percy was cheerfully chuffing through Misty Valley with a train of trucks when suddenly the entire world turned into one constant loud blaring noise. The fog machine had been put into action.

And into a really stupid position.

"OH SHIT. It's making my head ache and there's no axle tingling to be having!"

"...You engines and your confusing likes. But enough of that, Perce! We better slow down, even it does mean that Reece will probably get the last jammy dodger, that bastard!" Carlin muttered and growled his way through the rest of the valley.

But the foghorn had managed to shake the mountain significantly. In retrospect, this was a very poor idea. No sooner had Percy rounded the bend and gone from sight, then one rock fell. Then another.

And another.

And ano- You get the idea.

Before long, the avalaunche had blocked the track significantly. And the foghorn was crushed.

Once again, whoever had placed it there was a massive idiot.

And not far away, Thomas was puffing happily with a long line of vans right on time. He was so happy that it was almost as if Karma and Fate (Her brother) had worked together to ruin his day. He plowed ahead into the fog. "WHAT?! I CAN'T SEE A THING!" And before he could even think (HA! Thomas, think? As if!), it was too late.

"BUST MY BUFFERS!" He shouted, as he spun helplessly atop the huge pile of rock. "What the hell happened to that bloody foghorn!? And when will Bust My Buffers catch on!? It better be a meme at this point!"

"I don't know, and no, it isn't a meme. But at least no one's hurt!"

"Oh, that's not going to be the case for long!" snapped the fireman, trying desperately to get a firm grip on the cab. "Toby'll be along in a few minutes, with Henrietta! We've got to get out of here before we die too!"

"Coward! There's no foghorn, so he'll run smack dab into us!"

"LEAVE IT TO ME!" said a heroic and manly voice.

"CYRIL! WE'RE SAVED...I hope he's in time."

...

"Yeah? You've not heard a thing from them? Bloody hell, that's not like them, Duck. Look, I don't mean to be pushy, but try once more. And if that doesn't work, it might be worth the two of us getting Edward together for another chinwag. Right, hold up Duck, the signal here is crap. See you later." As Toby heard Duck hang up (Sellotaping a cell phone to his head had surprising advantages), he trundled along with Henrietta. Not for the first time, he was looking for a well-earned drink at the next station.

He was just picturing the strange cocktail he would order when a loud BANG shook him from frames to sideplates. "OOH ER!" He said, going a bit camp for a moment. "Fog detonator!"

"Must be fog ahead! Better slow down!"

"Thank you, driver, I didn't put those two things together."

"Don't be a sarky git, Toby, this is why no one likes you."

So they did slow down. Just around the next bend and with his axles still tingling away, and Toby suddenly felt very glad that they did. Otherwise, they would have crashed into Thomas's wreck. Which, funnily enough, was what most of the critics referred to his movie as wen the box office figures came in. I'll be here forever, thank you very much.

Soon, the Smiling Tractor God known as Terrance arrived to clear the tracks alongside the breakdown train, as pulled by Percy. "And if it hadn't been for Cyril, all praise him, Toby would have had a worse accident than me!"

"Instead of replacing Cyril with the foghorn, we'll replace the foghorn with Cyril! Yes, all part of my plan!" bullshitted the Fat Controller. "You are clearly far more reliable than any piece of tat the Railway Board could put together!"

"Ta mate!" said Cyril, who had always known that he was in with a job.

"Hmmm...the Railway Board again. Oh, and thanks, Cyril."

"You may not be brand spanking new, and those inventions are all very well..." Thomas said, waiting for Percy to finish off the sentence with a meaningful statement of some kind.

"But they don't make our axles tingle!"

That was not the meaningful statement Thomas had been hoping for.

 _ **And Now, A Message From The Sodor Health and Safety Department.**_

For the record, if your axles are tingling, please consult your local GP immediately.


	7. Episode 7: Jack Jumps In

You know what's fun? Having to come up with funny lines for a ton of new characters who only appear in two episodes for six years, not counting their spin-off. Nah, I kid. Writing this one was enjoyable, especially as I was seeing the new characters again for what felt like the first time. I can't recall having seen this episode in any real detail, only it's sequel. The Pack spin-off is also going to be abridged, which leads me to my question. Would you like it in a separate story, or perhaps shoved in between Season 6 and 7, or 7 and 8? Again, I'm curious to see what your thoughts are on this.

In other news, as this goes up, the trailer for Journey Beyond Sodor has dropped...and I am not at all sure what to think of it!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Good one! And yeah, I know that! Did it sound like I was lecturing you? Sorry if it did, it's a perfectly fair point. Just wanted to put it out there now rather than later.

 **Reality Rejection Service:** Little known fact. When the engines gather around the fire at Halloween, they tell ghost stories. When the ghosts gather together, they tell Cyril stories.

 **Game-Watch:** To be fair, they are constantly under threat of being replaced by said technology, thereby meaning that they could be potentially killed or shoved somewhere to be used as spare parts. But yeah, they're assholes, sometimes.

 **BronzeShield:** Ha! Yeah, I was going to make a crude joke about it but...I figured that it might be a bit much.

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** Probably my favorite description of Terrance that I've come up with.

 **TrainManiac:** Glad you enjoyed!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Thanks! Season 6 is definitely fun to revisit, and I am enjoying writing the episodes. And we'll see about Gordon Takes A Tumble...but it is likely. You know me too well!

 **Hughie96:** Hmm...a good question. Honestly, maybe Murdoch, because he had a unique design, and I don't think they gave him much to do in his episodes. At least Arthur got the Fishing Village out of the deal.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

It was a tingly spring morning on the Island of Sodor.

"Bloody hell, me axles are still tingling!" Thomas paused. "Hang about, wasn't it pissing winter last time? How long have I been asleep for?!"

In actuality, the weather had decided to do yet another loop-de-loop and made the entire countryside feel as though it was in the midst of April or May. It was very confusing for those who wanted to was excited. As excited as he ever could be. The Fat Controller had sent him to collect a special for Jenny Packard, an ex-girlfriend who now ran a construction company.

An ex-girlfriend of Topham's, not of Thomas. Thomas had never had a girlfriend, as you can tell by the way he was smiling at the new arrival. Jenny was already waiting there.

"Spot on, Thomas!" she cried, in an accent that would have made Terry Wogan blush. "You make a mother proud!"

"...Er...thank you?"

"Although that face of yours needs less of the botox, if you know what I mean."

Thomas frowned. Everyone screamed. This was the last time, Thomas swore, that he would take James's advice when it came to anti-aging cream. He felt like a circus freak. "So, erm, is this...this thing my special?"

"Very special!"

"Thank you for that." Thomas was in a sarcastic mood, more so than usual.

"I'M JACK THE FRONTLOADER!" bellowed the digger. Thomas jumped back. "SORRY ABOUT THAT, MY VOICE HAS ONLY ONE VOLUME LEVEL! AND THAT'S HIGH! VERY HIGH!"

"I noticed!" snapped Thomas. Britt and David were already getting some shots in, seeing Jack as their way into the potential spin-off world that awaited them.

"I CAN LOAD AND UNLOAD AND CARRY LOTS OF THINGS! AREN'T I JUST SUPER?!"

"You're something, all right." Thomas growled under his breath. "Trying the innocent act, eh? Well let me tell you, it didn't work for me, it didn't work for Toby, it won't work for you! Besides, I can haul and shunt! And at least I'm not a rip-off of something, Scoop!"

"DON'T YOU MENTION THE DEVIL'S SHOW TO US!?" Jack was outraged. "BOB THE BUILDER IS A MOCKERY OF WHAT WE DO!"

"Sure thing! I can get you two chatterboxes off to the quarry!"

"Is that a euphemism or something-"

"Thomas, just take the fecking vehicle, will you?"

...

Mid-way through the countryside, Thomas noticed that Allcroft was holding aloft large boards with words to read out. He rolled his eyes, but decided that this was going to be a one-off, and thus there was no point in really arguing over anything. Well, yet. "Is this your first time working at the quarry?"

"IT'S MY FIRST TIME WORKING ON THE ISLAND!" said Jack, tongue hanging out like Old Yeller. Thomas hoped that Jack wasn't done emulating the old pooch there.

"Watch out for Max-" Thomas mentally frowned and wondered who the hell Max was "-HE'S trouble!"

"HA! HA AND THRICE HA!"

"Oh, you are just a treat." Thomas muttered.

...

The second that Thomas delivered Jack to the quarry, he took off and started running for the hills. He didn't want to stick around to watch the shameless attempt to sell a pilot. All the machines were busy preparing the site for new railway tracks.

Jack couldn't wait to get his name in lights. And also to join in. He started off by meeting a big excavator. He preferred the term 'large boned' but what can you do? "I'M JACK! CAN I HELP?!"

"Oh my...no..." said the excavator, who's name was Oliver. This will in no way get confusing later on. He took a long puff of the peace pipe he had with him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Help...Byron...instead..." Seconds later, he puffed once more, this time muttering aloud "Now, where did I put those crisps?"

Leaving the stoned excavator to his own devices, Jack scurried over to Byron, the bulldoze, who was currently shoving rocks into a wall, and taking great pleasure in doing so. "I'M JACK!" He said. He had no other way to introduce himself.

"I don't care." said Byron.

"CAN I HELP?"

"I don't need help! I'm BYRON. Go shove off, see if Kelly the crane needs any help." As he left, Byron made sure to blow a raspberry at Jack's retreating back. Had he fingers, he would have flipped him off.

"I'M JACK!"

"Oh. Right." said Kelly, who was on the verge of throwing himself off a cliff any day now. "Hi."

"MIND MY PAINT!" said a lorry, who looked to be a distant cousin to Elizabeth somehow.

"Isabella." said Kelly. "Rude, much?"

"Oh, jeez, jeez, sorry. Welcome to the Pack. We'll pour the motor oil on you later."

"THE...THE WHAT?"

"It's our initiation thing." Kelly said, dully. "I keep asking them to do it to me, and then throw a lighter to make it more exciting. No one will take me up on it, though." He looked at the wall. "And yet they did it for Nigel."

"That was a special case, and you know it!" snapped Isabella, who acted as caretaker-slash-counselor for Kelly. Considering that this usually too the form of throwing Kelly against the wall and telling him to 'man up', this explained much about his mood.

"If you want to work-"

"See the foreman!" said Isabella, cheekily. "He's in charge!" She snickered to herself, aware that she wasn't being very subtle. Jack trundled off, oblivious to all that was going on.

...

Jack was introduced, via the foreman, to his banksman. Who was not, in fact, here to audit Jack's taxes. "I'm here to make sure you don't accidentally destroy the entire quarry in a single day!"

"No speeding and no horseplay! ...Any more than the typical Sudrian amount, anyway." added the foreman. "Now go and help Alfie!"

"IS THIS JUST SOME SORT OF RANDOM SCAVENGER HUNT?"

"No. Piss off."

"YES SIR!" And off he sped, not really minding his banksman's bleating of "Safety first!" as he did so. Alife, who was apparently to be the Muck to his Scoop, was another excavator. He made the hardest job seem like play. Sorry, have to read that off, the toy manufacturers are having a field day right now. He was currently digging a hole. Kelly was happy at this, primarily because he hoped that he'd be buried in it by the end of the day.

"I'M JACK!" At this point, his catchphrase was beginning to become a running joke amongst the quarry. "I'M HERE TO HELP!"

"" _More help means more dirt; more dirt means more fun!_ " Alife was a very simple vehicle. "I'm Alfie! I've got a bit of a stuffed up nose at the moment, so don't mind me!"

Jack and Alfie soon got to work, and they were having a (relatively) wonderful time. Suddenly, a huge dump truck roared by. This, the producers thought, was clearly the Spud the Scarecrow of the piece. "MAAAAAAAAAAAAX!" bellowed Alfie, with all the rage and anger of a overacting William Shatner.

"SO THAT'S MAX!" said Jack, who was thicker than two planks atop ten cinder blocks. "THOMAS IS RIGHT, HE IS TROUBLE!"

Max, who had a weird grin on his face, rushed forward. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" He bellowed. "MAKE SOME NOISE FOR MAX!"

"Look out Jack!" cried Alfie, as Max stopped within inches of the digger. Jack gulped. Someone played a Mexican stand-off theme. This made Kelly wonder why he wasn't the one being pushed into certain death.

Jack, perhaps because he was just too stupid to, didn't back down. "STOP BULLYING!" said Jack, bravely. Or dumbly. Or both, there's quite a bit of overlap.

"Can't you take a joke?!" whined Max as he dieseled away. "I'm going to tell on you to Monty!" And the wannabe rock-star rushed back to the other side of the quarry to sulk and write an angsty song about his troubles.

"Thank you, Jack." said Alfie, reading off the auto-cue cards.

...

"I don't see what you're saying?"

"Oh really, Percy? You don't see the similarties between that lot down there and us lot up here? A naive newcomer comes to the Island determined to make friends. His best friend is a slightly dim, green person. They have a nice if somewhat depressed guy who's one step away from snapping and killing either everyone else or himself, a vain and mocking one, one who sounds stoned half the time, another one who's essentially a big grumpy bear that's been poked...we're a Toby away from having our copyright infringed!"

"Yeah, but James isn't a chick."

"Oh right, THAT changes everything!"

"I know, Thomas, doesn't it?"

...

Later on, the foreman bellowed "OLIVER, MOVE THIS ROCK!"

"..."

"OLIVER."

"..."

"Please?"

"Sure...whatever."

"I'LL DO IT!" Jack shouted. And he rushed over to scoop up a big load of rock. He once again ignored the banksman's bleatings of "Stop! Please! Pretty please! With a cherry on top!" and raced off up the mountainside. He was too eager, and stupid, to help.

I'll give you three guesses as to what happened next. And the first two don't count.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" wailed Isabella, having also taken a Shatner-esque course in acting. But as per usual, it was too late.

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NO!" Jack wailed as he promptly toppled over and rolled down the mountain. He came to a stop via ramming the barrels below. "OOPS." He declared.

Kelly was jealous. He had been trying, and he hadn't been that close to death in ages.

Miss Jenny was glad that Jack wasn't hurt (Good money could not be wasted on more diggers) but she was disappointed. "I am disappointed!" She declared. "Safety first! That means you don't rush in where you don't belong!" She paused. "Although admittedly, me being here would have actually helped with that. And perhaps randomly sending you to every single other vehicle before giving you a job was a bit foolhardy. BUT THE POINT STILL STANDS."

"I'M SORRY MISS JENNY!" Jack said, sadly.

"Turn the volume down!" muttered Byron.

"Maybe you're not ready for the Pack!" sighed Miss Jenny. This was a stupid thing to say, considering what misfits made up said Pack, but she rolled with it. "We'll see if you can do better tomorrow!" She returned to the yards soon after, wondering why it was that she hadn't gone with her gut and dated Lowham Hatt instead.

Jack was sad. Isabella could see that. She was not blind. "You're a good frontloader!" she said. Thomas was not sure if that was a compliment or not.

"And a good friend! ATCHOO!" sneezed Alfie.

"Being a good friend is important- ENOUGH WITH THE CUE CARDS!" snapped Thomas.

And that made Jack feel just a bit better.

 **TO BE CONTINUED.**

"BOOO!" jeered Thomas. "Can't we get episodes again? Remember when this show used to be called Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends?! Less of the friends, more the- Don't you stop the episode when I'm ranting!"

But they did.


	8. Episode 8: A Friend in Need

I'm excited to say that we'll be returning to our regularly scheduled idiocy soon! But first, let's finish off this Pack lot for the time being.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yeah, it is FREAKY. I think it bothers me more because they did such a good job at creating the illusion of size with the Narrow Gauge Engines, and you can clearly tell when the two models are swapped out.

 **Reality Rejection Service:** Hopefully you'll get to see a sample of the hi-jinks at a later date.

 **Game-Watch:** Funny thing is, part of this sequel is my attempts to avert that a little. But more on that at a later date.

 **BronzeShield:** I agree! Especially considering that they're on for such a small amount of time, it's a shame they didn't get more use during the model years.

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** Thanks!

 **MattPrice01:** It's fine! Bob the Builder was a big childhood favorite of mine, and seeing as Series 6 takes place in the time period where it was at it's biggest, I felt it would be fun to throw in a few references...and who knows? Maybe more...

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Ta for the opinion. I am teasing the idea of having the Pack stories take place after Season 6, just to get them out of the way with, but who knows at this point? Oliver is glad you enjoyed the drugs. He did too.

 **UGX7:** I hadn't thought of it before, but I think that's who I based Kelly off of. I was worried that it would come across a little mean-spirited, but it's just a bit of very black comedy. And yeah, it is weird. I honestly wonder if it had something to do with no having a proper Oliver episode or even a speaking role in Season 6. Eh, who knows?

 **JD145** : Glad you're enjoying! It's harder than it looks, I agree, but the fact that I've been doing this now for over a year is mindboggling to me! Thanks for your support, and I hope you enjoy the rest!

 **Hughie96:** Thanks! Actually, I think part of the reason the Pack thing never got off the ground was because HIT thought it was too similar to Bob the Builder. A pity really, would have been nice to see what they could have done with it.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

"So, um, about this Pack spin-off?"

"Yes?"

"Well, it's a good idea and all, and they are an interesting bunch...but don't you think it's a little too similar to Bob the Builder? I mean, HIT'll have a field day with it!"

"Who cares?" David shrugged. "Talking vehicles have existed on TV for years, but we didn't let that stop us making the series, did we?" He paused as he recognized Britt's somewhat glum face. "What?"

"See...we may have to co-exist with HIT a bit more than we usually would do..."

...

thomas puffed along a very deserted area of his branchline, thinking about his new 'friend' Jack. The quote marks were around the word friend primarily because of how mandated the thing felt. He sighed as yet another cue card was passed along for him to read. "I hope that he is doing better today." He sighed. "Dear oh dear, I hope that Jack will join the Pack and please Miss Jenny something fierce. Oh please, God-" He suddenly rammed forward, knocking the cue card to the rails and running it over just for emphasis. "Oh. No." He said, mock-sadly.

For those not keeping track, the episode before, Jack had broken the rules and had gotten into trouble. Well...broken is perhaps a exaggeration. Only on Sodor would trying to help someone be considered a rule breaking offence.

The Pack was widening the road between the old quarry bridge. Byron was currently engaged with his arch-nemesis, the old oak tree, while Oliver routinely smacked the ground. He was currently on a massive high, and thought that there were large dogs trying to bite his wheels.

Jack and Alfie were loading up Max, all to the tune of a jaunty Irish jig that had been left on in the background just in case Miss Jenny came back, to gain her favor. Dust and dirt flew everywhere. Work had never been so much fun...said no one ever.

"FUN!" Jack bellowed.

"YEAH YEAH! ATCHOO!" Alife agreed. he was not a wordy person. The last of the suspiciously chocolate-like soil was loaded into Max, and he shot off like a cork from a bottle. Alfie, who was simple at heart, did a full three hundred and sixty degree turn to celebrate...for some reason.

Jack, for his part, felt very proud. He had worked hard, done all his jobs and followed all the rules...and he had managed to not blow anything up, which was a plus point in many ways. But still he was worried that Miss Jenny would cut him from the show proper- I mean, let him stay. He needn't have worried, for Old Ned, the village idiot, had arrived to work at that very moment.

Wisely, they had stuck him at the bottom of the quarry when they had been working there previously. He was clearing away rocks in a part of the road that everyone was sure couldn't lead to trouble. They had reckoned without Ned's big bucket, big heart and small brain. The rocks banged into Max's back with the beat of an over-enthusiastic drummer. "CAREFUL, YA BUMBLEBUCKET! WASSUP!?" bellowed Max, the amateur rock star.

"Sorry!" said Ned, cheerfully. It would have meant more had he not been talking to a wall. Max had already zoomed off, out of the episode.

...

Thomas couldn't wait to get to the Old Bridge. As much sarcasm as can possibly be found has been poured into those words, can you tell? He knew the Pack were working there, and so he wanted to...hell, I don't know. See how Jack was doing? Trying to get some more toys out of the situation? Who knows?

Back at the site, the foreman bellowed. "OLIVER! PLEASE MOVE THIS TOPSOIL!"

"I'LL DO IT!" bellowed Jack, and he raced under the bridge towards the large pile of soil. He heard Alife bellow his name in as melodramatic fashion as anyone, but before anyone could stop him, he was at the soil. He was about to fill his bucket, when he remembered Miss Jenny's warning. And very, very drunk rantings about how clearly she should have stuck to working at a boarding school, as they were more co-operative that this lot.

"OLIVER!" Jack shouted in the other vehicle's ear. "THIS IS YOUR JOB!"

"Thank you, I didn't know that before. Asswipe." said Oiiver in as polite a manner as possible when dealing with Jack the Blithering Idiot.

"Well done Jack!" Kelly called, as he tried to hang himself with his own hook.

"Yes, well done Jack!" called Alfie and Isabella in the most patronizing manner possible as they attempted to rescue Kelly from killing himself, or otherwise giving himself a very sore neck.

Jack beamed proudly. "I DO GOOD!" he said, like a British Hulk.

At that moment, Ned ambled on over. One could faintly hear the chords of doom being played as he moved forward. Despite the fact that his banksmen had warned him to lower his crane arm...he wasn't doing so good on that side of things. "I must be careful, I must be careful, I must be-"

CRACK.

"-oh bugger!"

Jack watched as Ned somehow managed to take out both keystones of the bridge. It was an impressive mistake, no one was quite sure how Ned had managed to do so accidentally. The bridge began to crumble, as did everyone's hope of a quiet day.

Thomas, meanwhile, ambled along, unaware of any of this and wondering why it was that he was the only engine who interacted with the Pack at all. He faintly heard Jack melodramatically scream "THOMAS!" as he rounded the bend.

Jack had jumped in, slamming his front loader up in an attempt to keep the bridge from falling down. He pushed with all his might, as the flagman arrived too late to stop Thomas from rushing onto the broken section of track. His driver had applied the brakes, but it was too late.

"CINDERS AND ASHES! WHAT A SHIT CATCHPHRASE THAT WOULD BE ALSO HELP!"

Jack didn't let go, until Thomas raced backwards, screaming all the time that he was 'too young and too pretty to become dead' all the way. "Holy up, Jack! I'm coming!" shouted Kelly, who had been considering whether or not being crushed by a bridge would actually kill him or not. Unfortunately, he missed his chance, as Jack had to back away and let the bridge fall, harming nobody.

"BOO!" wailed Kelly. "Are you all right, Jack?!"

"I THINK SO!"

"Good! Then I can KILL YOU!"

...

That night, Miss Jenny had called a meeting of the Pack. It was a little bit like a gang meeting, which made Thomas wonder if they were going to beat the holy hell out of Jack for making the mistake. Jack was worried of much the same, having jumped in again and damaged his arms in the process. But Miss Jenny was oddly pleased. And for some reason, Ned wasn't punished despite making the same mistake as Jack had the previous day. The mind boggled.

"Spot on, Jack! You make a mother proud, jakers!"

"And a tank engine grateful." muttered Thomas, who had to admit he owed Jack his life.

"It's off ta the works with you, m'boy! The Pack can't have a front-loader with broken arms, now can they?"

"YOU MEAN I CAN STAY?!"

"I wouldn't have it any other way. Except for that time where I threatened to have you thrown out, but that was so yesterday, girlfriend."

"We're a cracking crew." muttered Kelly, angry that he had not been given the chance to die a noble death that day.

"AND all the better for having Jack with us." growled Isabella, realizing that she'd have to keep an eye on Kelly, lest he decide to drive off of a pier at some point just to spite everyone.

"Welcome to the pack, Jack!" cheered Alfie.

Jack was so excited, he didn't know what to do...so he just waved his arms up and down. Thus started the strangest dance party in Sodor's history. And as Thomas departed, on his way home to Tidmouth Sheds, he couldn't help but feel a tiny bit happy for Jack.

"Welcome to the Pack, Jack. Please try not to get cancelled, though."

...

ELSEWHERE.

Edward looked up. "F**k me, is it snowing AGAIN!? Thank god, it's almost Christma-" He paused as he read the script. "The hell is a winter holiday?!"


	9. Episode 9: It's Only Snow

Fun fact about this episode. Originally I had planned to set this around Christmas time, so that I could move the series onto 2003 and avoid any real lingering continuity problems. Then I discovered that there were two other winter themed episodes at least left in the season, scattered throughout. So, once again, I'm relying on the Sudrian weather system to get me out of a jam here.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Now there is an idea...oh, and yeah, winter holidays. That's going to be fun.

 **Reality Rejection Service:** As I explain in the episode itself, it's not so much the term that annoys me, really it's not that big a deal. No, what surprises me is that it's pretty clear that the holiday that they are celebrating is Christmas, and will continue to be obvious for the remainder of the time it is used.

 **Game-Watch:** That oak tree knows too much!

 **BronzeShield:** I'm with you on that. A lot of the shots are unique, and this was the first episode I was introduced to including the Pack, so not a bad one overall.

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** Yeah, that one is shorter. This one is a bit longer, so I hope you enjoy.

 **MattPrice01:** That's fine! I am honestly not expecting every episode this season to be a gut-buster. It's just the way the season works. Glad you enjoyed the bit at the end!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Oh Jack is VERY endearing...very endearing. And also, thanks for the nice reviews! WINTER IS COMING. And is in fact already here.

 **UGX7:** Sorry about that! Hopefully it didn't ruin the thing for you guys!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

It was winter holiday time on the Island of Sodor-

...

 _The door promptly fell off it's hinges, and Angelis, Allcroft and Mitton jumped as Edward stormed in angrily. "How did you get through the front door?" Mitton asked, weakly._

 _"Never mind that!" Edward looked at all of them, and put on his best fake smile. "Now, I think we need to talk about this...seriously. I like the three of you. Really. True, you're no Ringo Starr-"_

 _"Oh, ta, it's not like the press don't automatically assume that the series always had Ringo in it. Not like I actually dedicate my life to this sort of thing!" snapped Angelis._

 _"-but you're all people who I admire and respect for making this series a really, really, REALLY good one, one that sets the bar for kids show's in this country." Edward's smile dropped. "However, we need to have words about the new episode."_

 _"Yes?" Allcroft sighed, tapping her hand against the desk._

 _"It is set, according to you, around about Christmas time, correct?"_

 _"That is the idea."_

 _"First of all, IT'S AUGUST! I know the weather is a little insane this time of year, but come on!" Edward grunted, and then admitted. "But whatever, I get it that you want to show it at a later date. What I don't get is why we're dancing around the subject. It's CHRISTMAS. All I see in the cue cards which you are routinely forcing us to use nowadays, is Winter Holidays."_

 _"Yes."_

 _"Winter. Holidays."_

 _"There's a problem with this?"_

 _"...Okay, let me back up a little here. This? This is a minor blip. I'm not saying that this is anything to get too worked up about." Edward paused. "Point of the matter is, we're doing this after six seasons? People know that we celebrate Christmas, Britt! Our first three seasons showed how we celebrate the holiday on the Island! Hell, I don't believe in God, and I celebrate the shit out of it! There is nothing wrong with calling it Christmas!"_

 _"I agree."_

 _"Then why are you making us say WINTER HOLIDAYS?!" Edward fumed. "I wouldn't be so angry, except you've inevitably opened up a can of worms. This is going to dog us for a long time. Oh, and also-" He pointed to the footage "-THAT IS A SODDING CHRISTMAS TREE! DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU'RE GOING TO START CALLING IT A WINTER HOLIDAY, BECAUSE THAT IS JUST RIDICULOUS."_

 _"I always thought you a very liberal engine, Edward."_

 _"Me?! I'M AS LIBERAL AS ANYONE! Edward the Liberal Engine was my original title! ...I'm just saying, maybe we shouldn't be acting like the word 'Christmas' is such a bad word. For hell's sake, we're not Richard Bloody Dawkins! Besides, it looks...silly."_

 _"Fine. We'll edit it."_

 _"Thank you." Edward paused. "Now, on another note, how do I get out of the house?"_

...

Okay. Okay. Are we done? We are? Good.

It was cold, but the engines loved it. As can be seen by their smiles, frozen upon their faces not just by cold, but by sheer determination to not let it show how much pain they are in. They love this time of year, especially when the stations look jolly and gay in their **WINTER HOLIDAY** decorations. There is plenty of work, like passengers and parcels to be delivered, no matter what the weather, or how catchy the music is. Mike and Junior were earning their keep once again.

"Driver says that there's more bad weather on the way!" said Edward. "Which begs the question of whether or not there's some mad scientist with a weather generator messing things up something proper!"

"Soon be wearing our snowplows!" growled James.

"Ooooh, you'll enjoy that, won't you, Thomas?"

"Bite me, Henry. You know I won't! I hate it! I hate it I hate it I hate it!"

"Didn't we go over this five seasons ago?" muttered Edward, directly to the camera. The cameraman shrugged. They had no idea either of what was going on. And as Thomas puffed off, Edward sighed, and watched as more snow began to fall.

...

Sure enough, that night, the wind blew and the snow came tumbling down, crushing and smothering all in it's path, making it a veritable winter wonderland. Mike and Junior were lucky in that it only inspired them to make a title for their song. The next morning, the Fat Controller arrived, skidding and wailing along in his car. The engines were to have their snowplows fitted.

"Have your snowplows fitted!" he said. See? "And YOU! Protagonist! You're collecting something special at Callan for the feast on Toby's branch-line!" He paused, and then shrugged. "Why some idiots would have a feast on the actual tracks of that old tramway is beyond me. But still, do so! And have a happy **WINTER HOLIDAY**...MUS...Oh god, really? Are we doing this now?"

Thomas was excited about the special, less so about the snowplow. "Please sir, my plow is awkward and uncomfortable, do I have to wear it?"

"Thomas, you are awkward and uncomfortable every single day. And yet I have to tolerate you."

"Wow." said Thomas. "I walked right into that one."

"Besides, everyone has to wear one. EVERYONE."

...

The fitter helped with Thomas's snowplow. By helped, I mean they smacked it into his face. The snowplow had seen better days, and it had gone to seed faster than Thomas himself had. "We'll...er...have to try that again!" laughed the driver.

"STUPID BIG UGLY HORRIBLE LUMP OF CRAP! I HOPE YOU DIE!"

Henry began to cry.

"No damn it, I didn't mean YOU, Henry! HENRY! COME BACK HERE SO I CAN APOLOGIZE!" Thomas glared at the snowplow and spat at it. "Stupid bloody thing!" he hissed. "A POX UPON YOU!"

He was much happier when he arrived at Callan station. The surprise was a big **WINTER** -

...

 _Edward burst in, and the three of them held up their hands._

 _Slowly, Edward retreated, never moving his eyes from theirs._

...

Ahem!

The surprise was a big Christmas tree.

Edward nodded. Much better. "The tree's to stand in the middle of the village and have lights and everything! ...So, you know, an actual tree. Don't know why I assumed you didn't know what one was. Make sure you get it to Toby safely!"

"I will! Jeez, Dad!"

Edward stared at him. Thomas began to hurry off, for he feared that Edward would be mental on him. He could not have been more wrong. "HE CALLED ME DAD! HE CALLED ME DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!" Edward proceeded to spend the rest of the day crying from sheer joy, which made things very awkward around the yard, and confused the hell out of everyone.

After a long time of puffing along, Thomas finally arrived at the recently reopened Maithwaite. Toby was waiting there, and admired the tree. "The villagers are going to love it!" He declared. "I'm glad you've got the snow plow, I can't clear the snowdrifts by myself!"

And as they set off, the two of them began to reminisce together.

"Remember the party with Mrs Kyndley!"

"Oh yeah, I know! James drank seven beers! And he spent the next day being sick as a dog...and remember that sing song we had!? I've never heard Silent Night be butchered so badly!"

But as they were talking, Thomas failed to see a large rock hidden under all the snow. With a clang, the snowplow flipped to one side like a mousetrap gone haywire! "Oooh er!" He declared. "The plow's broken!"

The driver, getting really tired of having to do this, hit the brake hard. But with a crash, the snowplow caused a nearby water tower to collapse completely.

"What was that thing made of?!" spluttered Toby. "F**king PAPER!?"

"CINDERS AND ASHES!"

"Real helpful, Thomas!"

"Can't go any further! And there's no one to come and help us!"

"BUT THE VILLAGERS NEED THEIR TREE!" belted out Thomas, trying to win himself a BAFTA. "Let me try again! Please! I'll make it or bust!"

It wasn't easy, but Thomas forced his way through, determined to not let things end this way. Toby hurried after him, determined to make sure that the tanked up engine didn't screw things up somehow. Both of them tried as hard as they could, but one snowdrift after another popped up, blocking their way and making them fight like mad dogs to get through. It was like Rocky, except the snow was not nearly as charismatic as any of the villains in those films. Save for Tommy Gunn. Anything was more charismatic than Tommy Gunn.

Finally, they arrived at the station! Thomas blew his whistle, and a mighty roar went up as the villagers laid eyes on their tree. "HURRAH!" They said. "HURRAH!"

"Oh, I am knackered!" wheezed Thomas, and he passed out.

...

"Oh, dear." muttered Duck. This did not inspire Thomas, as he had been summoned by the Fat Controller. The blue engine gulped as he pulled in. He didn't want to hear what Fatty had to say about the shattered snowplow.

Surprise surprise, he wasn't angry. "The villagers had a wonderful feast! I should know! I ate most of it! You were very brave to take on the snow without a plow! Course, it's not going to be a regular thing, but I appreciate your bravery!"

"Ta sir!"

"Oh, and also...no spares. So, you'll just have to make do without one!"

"YIPPEE!" bellowed Thomas.

...

 _"No contact with the others?" Duck shook his head, and Toby sighed. "Right. Well that's worrying."_

 _"Ah well! All's well that end's well, that's what I say!" Edward sighed and relaxed backwards. "And we'll never hear anything about winter holidays again!"_

 _DUN DUN DA._

 _"Why the sudden dramatic music, lads? ...What? ...What do you know that I don't? ...Oh fu-"_


	10. Episode 10: Twin Trouble

Next time! We have the return of a certain character, and with it, a bit more story on top of that! Nothing too extreme, just clearing up a few minor points here or there! Also, this episode is okay. It's perfectly fine. Just means that I have to write an entire episode in barely comprehensible Scottish. It's great. This one isn't as funny as the other ones, but that's the name of the game. Sometimes you'll have ones that aren't as chuckle-worthy. Next time should be fun, though.

 **AaronCottrell97:** I agree. Winter Holiday aside, there's nothing that wrong with the episode. It's perfectly fun, even if I do feel as though it's going a little bit backwards with regard to the snowplow issue. But whatever, it's fun.

 **Reality Rejection Service:** Eh. In case you can't tell, Edward's my favorite character, so I'm a little biased. I will cut back on him for the next few episodes, however. Edward being an atheist was actually mentioned before, during Season 4, but I just emphasized it here. He's just seen too much shit at this point.

 **Game-Watch:** The most obvious of morals!

 **BronzeShield:** Fair enough. When it does come back, I am going to do more with it than just repeat the same bit over and over again.

 **TrainManiac:** Probably my favorite line of the episode. I was just like "Okay, Henry's not going to be doing ANYTHING of note for this season, let's just give him something to do" and there we have it. Thank you, and I will.

 **bigyihsuan:** Yeeeeeep.

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** Thanks!

 **MattPrice01:** That I am! ...And it starts next time! I hope.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Thomas exists in this universe to be the plaything of it. And you are welcome!

 **UGX7:** Oh, you will! I hope to have a few more interactions like that! Hopefully I will be developing the characters further, even if the show itself keeps occasionally taking three steps forward, four steps back.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

And now it's summer again, go figure.

Ahem, erm, anyway, Donald and Douglas are twins and are Scottish. We're assuming that you've not been watching the last five seasons and are only now tuning in. Also, we're assuming that you haven't been able to tell up until this point with their accents. Mind, that could be the incredibly Liverpudlian men who we keep hiring to do narration for us. They are also...this alliteration isn't going to become a thing, right? Ugh. Okay. They're practical, peppery, proud and pissed out of their minds, most of the time.

They nearly always work together, and nearly always to the sound of very, very eager bagpipes being played.

"HI GUYS!" shouted Sir Topham Hatt, who was in the middle of a mountain climbing incident gone horribly wrong. "Can I get a lift back- Oh forget it!"

On this day, the twins were chuffing through the countryside pulling a heavy load of freight and going "AYE!" and "HOOTS MON!" at random intervals. The ducks near the watermill were very confused every time they did this.

Down the line, Trevor the Traction Engine had been having a hell of a day. He had been struggling with a massive cartload of hay, not helped by Sam the lazy farmer leaving him halfway through to go drinking with Carlin. Eventually, the cart had broken down on the line, and the rest of the farmers were trying to get it off. And then a whistle sounded.

"Ah well." sighed Trevor, accepting his probable death. "It was nice while it lasted."

Donald rounded the bend and saw the cart. "STUP!" He bellowed, having lost the ability to form 'O's' temporarily. His driver applied the brakes, but it was too late. Douglas, meanwhile, had had no idea of anything going on because of all the incessant bagpipe playing that was going on in the background.

...

One crash later, Donald had somehow managed to flip himself off the rails onto his side in a ditch. It was an impressive trick, and no one was quite sure how he had done it, especially the engine himself. Luckily, no one bar Donald was hurt. And even then, it was only his pride.

"STUP BEING PUSHY!" snapped Donald.

"DINNAE CALL ME PUSHY, YE BITCH!" snarled Douglas.

"YE SHULDNAE HAVE PUSHED ME INTO CART, YE BASTARD!" added Donald.

"YE PULLED ME, YE LILY LIVERED SACK OF SHIT!"

"DIDNAE!"

"DID!"

"DIDANE!"

"DID!"

Eventually, they were able to lever Donald back onto the track, and they set off again, still going at it ("DIDNAE!" DID!") and as a compromise, the bagpipe players were asked to tone it down a little bit.

But the twins were so cross that they refused to talk to each other for the rest of the day, even as they headed off to the Smelters and asked themselves the question "Where do these scrap Thomas's keep coming from!?" Neither one of them asked each other what they thought, instead just staring pointedly ahead and making snide comments to no one in particular.

The next day, the Fat Controller arrived and needed someone to help Duck work at the Smelters Yard. Thomas was also there, for some reason.

"May I go sir?!" begged Donald, who had managed to say words with 'o' in them once again. "Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"I only need one engine, you weird Haggis eater!"

"But I am only ONE ENGINE. And I didnae want to waste time! I want ta work with yon Duck!" Donald's eyes went in different directions for a moment.

The Fat Controller stared at him, confused, before agreeing that yes, that would be okay. As he walked away, he wondered vaguely if Donald had drunk a little less than usual, considering how...helpful, he was being today.

Thomas was confused, and felt as though he needed to stick his oar in. "Won't you miss each other? I know I'd miss...oh damn, those two coaches behind me, what are they called again?"

"WELL!"

"REALLY?!"

"I will work better on my own!" said Douglas, snootily.

"And I HAVE work ta be doing!" snapped Donald, storming off in the general direction of the yard.

Thomas frowned. "So that just happened." He paused, and then groaned. "Oh for god's sake, you two, am I going to have to deal with this ALL day now?! Because it's going to get old really fast!"

"At least we're DOING SOMETHING!" shrieked Annie. "We barely got anything to do in that stupid movie of yours! Where's our focus episodes?!"

"Oh...shush, you!" Thomas sighed, and headed off to get very, very drunk indeed.

...

Duck and Donald enjoyed a quiet and somewhat fun three hours working together, pulling the trucks around and making sure that the two new diesels who had taken the identities of Arry and Bert weren't screwing up.

At which point, everything went slightly wrong. Donald stormed up, looking stressed. "DUCK! Did ye shunt those trucks onto that other line?!"

"Yes?"

"WRONG. YE DIDN'T DO WHAT I ASKED YE!"

"...You said you wanted the trucks on the other line!" protested Duck, as calmly as he could be.

"Not that other line! The other, OTHER line! The other line confuses the shit out of people! The other other line is more easily accessible to whatever bastard wants to take the trucks."

Duck stared at Donald for a long moment. "You're insane." he said at last.

"DOUGGIE WOULD HAVE UNDERSTOOD!" wailed Donald, and he huffed off.

"What just happened?" Duck asked to no one in particular.

Elsewhere, Douglas was having a grand old time. He puffed dutifully through the beautiful countryside, occasionally passing by an engine like Henry and giving a cheerful whistle. But eventually, Douglas realized that one of the flaws of not having Donald around was not having someone to talk to. And, admittedly, bitch at. Soon he began to miss his brother. Not helping was the constant bagpipe playing in the background.

...

That night, as James and the others worked hard at Knapford, Douglas's driver took him to chat to Donald at a shed in the yards. "Ah, I was just passing!" Douglas said, trying to sound calm and normal.

"Come ta say yer sorry, have ye?!" growled Donald.

This pissed Douglas off something fierce. "TA HELL WITH YE!" He fumed. "I'VE NOTHIN TO BE SORRY FOR!" And off he steamed.

"BITE ME, YE LILY-LIVERED SHEEP LOVER!" screamed Donald at his twin's retreating tender. "DUCK! FETCH ME PIPE AND GOWN, I'M ABOUT TA WATCH BRAVEHEART AGAIN!"

Duck was in a miserable mood also, as Oliver and Stepney, who had come over to give them a hand, could see.

"The bloody hooligan's been making me go back and forth all ruddy day!" Duck wailed, nose currently in his glass of ale. "The trucks go here, the trucks go there, in that place, not that place, the other place, that kipper was meant to be boiled not cooked, why are you boiling the kipper, there's no point anymore, can't you do anything right!?" He groaned. "If the Other Railway had had Donald on their side, they would have won a long time ago!"

"There there." said Stepney, in what he hoped to be a sympathetic tone of voice. "It'll...work itself out."

"It better!" groused Duck. "Otherwise, I might just hang myself before the day is out!" He paused, and then grinned. "On the other hand-" He remarked, casually. "-maybe all they need is a little push."

"You're beginning to scare me, Duck."

"Shush yourself, Oliver!"

...

Donald was in a furious mood, banging everything in his way and swearing up even more of a storm than usual. Duck could see that he was getting dangerously close to the buffers, but was also aware that a good cool off might just save both of them from doing something they'd both regret. He sighed. "Look out!" he said, halfheartedly. It was too late of course.

Donald hit the buffers and slid down the embankment. "HOW!?" he shouted. "WHAT!? WHAT BLOODY PRAWN PUT THESE WEAK-ARSE BUFFERS NEAR A BLOODY DROP!? THIS RAILWAY IS SHITE!"

"Don't ask me, I just work here." Duck said.

Donald's driver was enraged, as the bagpipes had been crushed in the fall. "This wouldnae have happened had yer stupid twin been here!" he snapped. Donald knew he was right, and Duck knew that he couldn't get him out on his own.

Not that Donald didn't try and convince him otherwise.

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

"No."

"DUCK, I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!"

"So did I. Then you called me a baboon and smacked me across the face with a newspaper."

"CANNAE YE NOT TAKE A JOKE?!"

Duck didn't answer this. Naturally, he went for help. All according to plan so far.

Douglas was sadly shunting in the yard, sullenly reciting some Robbie Burns to himself at intervals, when Duck rushed in and, in rather bored tones, shouted out loudly. "DONALD'SINTROUBLEHEMIGHTBEDEADSOMEONEHELP."

"DONAL IN TROUBLE?!" bellowed Douglas, somehow managing to get that, fueled by last night's drinking binge. "I'M ON MY WAY!" And as he steamed off, he failed to notice Duck patting himself on the back for a job well done.

Eventually, Douglas pulled his twin back onto the tracks. Feel a bit anti-climatic? Well tough, that's how the episode went.

"Thank ye!" said Donald. "I'm sorry!"

"No, I'm sorry!"

"I'm sorry!"

"I'm sorry!"

"NO YER NOT!"

"YES I AM!"

"I'M MORE SORRIER THAN YE-"

"DON'T ARGUE ABOUT WHO'S SORRY!" shouted Duck, having finally had enough of all of this. "Just be glad that you are back together! Now for god's sake, let me out of here!" And off he puffed to fall back into the whisky glass once more.

...

Elsewhere...Sir Topham Hatt was facepalming harder than ever.

"Okay, Henry, you want to explain what happened?"

"Erm...I came off the rails."

"I see. How did you manage to do so in such a spectacular fashion?"

"I would like to plead the fifth, if I may, sir!"

Sir Topham Hatt groaned. "Right. Right. AGAIN. I'm going to have to go and phone for a new engine. And I get the feeling that I'm going to get a very familiar answer with regards to that!"

He had no idea how right he was.


	11. Episode 11: World's Strongest Engine

I'll get into specifics at the bottom of the page, but a lot of the scenes referenced here are mentions of events that happened in the prior volume. I'll provide exact references back done there, but it figures in quite a bit to the plot, so I've been planning this for a while now. Interesting thing about this episode, it's actually the last one to adhere to the strict 'Diesel leaves at the end' theme that had been going on for quite a while now. Obviously, back in Season 3 he popped back up for a few little scenes here and there, but still. Considering that this is his first big and proper appearance (As opposed to being used because they had his model to hand in 'Rusty to the Rescue') it almost makes me wonder if, had HIT not taken over the series, Diesel would have remained a character who only occasionally showed up...guess we'll never know.

Likewise, those of who you have seen how I've written Diesel in the past will notice...something. I won't say what, yet.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Honestly, the image of it is so well done that I'd love to hear the story behind it.

 **Reality Rejection Service:** Oh yeah, Donald can be a real dick.

 **Bronze Shield:** Oh yeah. They're real distracting.

 **Game-Watch:** The engines are clearly made of rubber. This is the only excuse that works...well, save for one that I do have plans to mention.

 **TrainManiac:** Awww, thanks! I'm blushing!

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** :D

 **MattPrice01:** Fair enough but I did enjoy them getting ratty with each other. And once again, Duck is the only competent engine in the vicinity.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** It was! Just a little bit edited! Thanks for that!

 **UGX7:** Yeah, it's weird how Henry barely gets to do anything this season. Mind, I suppose it makes up for all the stuff Edward was not doing last time.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

The engines on the Island of Sodor like to feel responsible, reliable and really useful! ...Unfortunately, they are crap at achieving that goal of theirs. As can be seen in many such situations over the years that are too many to name.

Duck pondered this as he passed along the branch, passing Thomas and Percy who were busy messing about as usual. He sighed. He felt so alone sometimes.

They also work hard to finish on time, as they don't like confusion or delay. Again, you wouldn't know it by watching them, as you can see by Oliver pushing trucks backwards into a wall, while James stops and laughs at him like a true friend. But the Troublesome Trucks in particular delight in mischief, and are actually fairly good at it, as poor Henry found out.

Somehow. Again, details are not that good on what happened.

"'ENRY 'AS 'AD AN ACCIDENT AND NEEDS REPAIRS!"

"Sir, you don't have to shout, we can hear you just fine!" snapped Gordon. "Also, you appear to be slipping more and more into Yorkshire territory. You've been drinking again, haven't you?!"

"SCREW YOU GORDON!"

"Ah, such wit." muttered James.

"There are no other engines avaliable, for some BLOODY REASON, so I've had to scrape the bottom of the barrel and bring back Diesel." Everyone groaned. "Yeah, I know, this is like the third time that I've said he'll never return and he did, sue me. I'm going to get a mirror and take a long hard look at myself to see if I can figure out where i went wrong. MAKE HIM FEEL WELCOME!" He stormed off, and hit his head on the car door.

"Yessir." muttered the engines rebelliously, for they were mightily cheesed off. They knew Diesel to be rude and a show off. One could make an argument about James and Gordon being the same, but one could also point out that they were at the very least, tone deaf to their mistakes. Diesel knew that he was wrong, and reveled in them.

"I hope Henry is mended soon!" said Percy.

"Not half as much as Henry probably does." Edward muttered.

"He can move more trucks than three diesels put together...though I suppose it depends on the size of the diesel, I guess. I mean...okay, I'm not getting into this debate right now, I'm knackered."

"TRUCKS ARE NO ONE'S FRIENDS!" growled Gordon.

"What a terrific contribution you have made to the discussion." mumbled James.

"FIGHT ME, JAMES!"

...

The next day dawned, and as Diesel slunk in, he and Duck met eyes for a second. Duck frowned, and shook his head, trying to wonder why it felt as though part of his memory had been junked.

Diesel had no such problem. He knew exactly what had happened.

"When the Fat Controller sees how good I am-" Diesel did brageth unto the trucks "-he shall get rid of steam engines and we SHALL TAKE OVER!" He added a little maniacal laugh for emphasis. It was...a flawed plan, to say the least. It was pretty apparent the number of flaws in said plan, and as Thomas and Percy had nothing better to do, they watched him make a prat of himself.

The trucks weren't fond of him either. They remembered all too well the time that Diesel had kick-started a dark age that had lasted well into the present, by destroying the heads of the families. Likewise, there were many who still were coughing up water after he had shunted them into the sea, clay and all. They were not, therefore, inclined to be generous towards him. This gave them an idea.

As Diesel shunted them together, they started to sing. And if you've ever heard trucks singing, you know that this was not a nice sound to be hearing so early in the morning.

"Is that all you can haul?  
Henry's loads are longer!  
Is that all you can haul?  
Henry must be stronger!"

It is no W.H Auden, to be sure. And Wordsworth can rest well in his grave knowing that he is not being challenged in any sense of the word on how he constructed his poems. But Diesel Dastardly had notoriously thin skin, and this made him cross. He was sure that he was stronger than Henry. Then again, considering how ill Henry was on a regular basis, that might not be such a worthy title.

He made a decision. "I'll take you all on!" He ranted. "Same time!"

The trucks cackled.

"Push us all, that's the longest!  
Push us all, you'll be the strongest!"

And then one of them began to freestyle rap, and it all got very awkward. "World's Strongest Engine!" Diesel shouted over the sick beats that were being dropped by the truck. "Sounds right to me!"

Thomas and Percy were now fully engaged in getting drunk and watching the devious dastardly dick do his work. First Diesel shunted five trucks, then ten, then fifteen. Soon, he had an enormous line of twenty trucks! All of whom looked excited.

"WHAT'S GOING ON!?" shouted Percy, who had fallen asleep from sheer boredom.

"Old Crackpot here thinks he can pull all the trucks and be the World's Strongest Engine! PAH! As if!" Thomas imagined himself pulling that line of trucks, completely with comically oversized muscles. It was a nice fantasy. And that was all it ever would be.

Diesel didn't know that the shunters were messing with him, and had set the brakes on the trucks. The trucks did know...but naturally, they encouraged Diesel to make a giant prat out of himself nonetheless. As he was coupled up, Diesel began to hype himself up. "Who the man? You da man!"

"PUSH!"

"PUSH!

"PUSH!"

Diesel did push. Nothing happened. He might have well have been trying to move Mount Everest, or the Fat Controller when trying to get sticky buns. Diesel's expression could best be described as 'livid', so he decided to pull the trucks instead.

You can already see the problem with this, can't you?

"HEAVE HO, HEAVE HO, YOU CAN PULL BUT WE WON'T GO!"

This childish taunt was apparently too much for the formerly confident Diesel to ignore, and he clenched his teeth. He pulled and pulled, until there was a loud snap, and free from being coupled up, he shot forward.

"SHIT SHIT OH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-"

There was a loud bang as Diesel thwacked into a nearby barge, hitting his chin upon the edge of it. "AHHHHHHH GREASE AND OIL!" He wailed. Well, we had to censor it for decency, but you get the drift.

The trucks, meanwhile, thought this was hysterical.

Goes to show that their sense of humor hasn't improved at all.

...

A shadow loomed overhead.

"GOD?!"

"Worse." said the Fat Controller. "I thought you would be a proper dockyard diesel! I was even going to get you a cameo in the new song that's being written! Guess that we'll just have to stick with Salty! So, I'm shoving you off!"

Diesel sulked.

"Make up for lost time, old chum!"

"OHHHHH yes!" said Henry, doing a impersonation of the Churchill Dog.

"Wait, weren't you off sick?"

"Eh. I got better."

This was the best explanation that any of them were going to get. Henry buffered up to the trucks, settled into a calm and comfortable starting position and waited for the brakes to be de-set.

And then he pulled away as easy as pie, to the sound of a triumphant orchestra.

And the engines cheered!

Round the corner, there was a loud crash, and Henry found himself off the rails once again. Luckily, the camera had cut out before this, so the more dramatic and awe-inspiring scene was kept.

Diesel was sent home in disgrace. Again. Next time, he'd get a free sundae.

But the engines had learnt a lesson. "Even miserable troublesome trucks can do you a favor sometimes!" declared Thomas.

"Like getting rid of smelly old diesels!" Percy stared at Mavis, who glared back. "Now hang about, you are taking my words COMPLETELY out of context!"

...

That wasn't the only thing that the engines had learnt, though.

"I'm telling you, it's not him!" Duck looked anxious, a emotion that the others weren't used to seeing on his face. "Did you see the way he was acting? No style, no substance, no flattery! He's acting more and more like...well, not to be coy about it, you guys!"

"And what does that mean?!" snapped Donald.

"Calm down, everyone." Edward frowned. "Now, I'm with Duck that this doesn't seem...normal. But what does that mean?"

"I may hold the answer to that." Stepney rolled forward and glanced around the yard, where the rest of the engines had gathered to hold an indignation meeting. Well, save for Thomas and Percy, who were busy chilling out and watching The Spy Who Loved Me to celebrate Diesel's departure. "Back in 98, Duck approached me with Diesel over an investigation into an engine called the Juggernaut. You three were responsible for killing him during the Battle of Shining Time.

Edward frowned. "Yeah...does make me wonder where the hell 87546 is, if he's anywhere at all. It's not like him to go about without his partner in crime." He paused. "Sorry, Step, I'm interrupting."

"But more to the point-" Duck interrupted "-I don't remember anything about that!"

"No...I know. You and Diesel promised me a return trip after you went to confront City of Truro regarding the reasoning for your placement on the Island. You did not return, and I had assumed that you had found nothing out. It wasn't until after the battle, and I talked to you about it, that I realized that those memories were...how to put it, extracted from you?"

"That's ridiculous!" scoffed James. "It's not Men in Black!" He paused. "Mind, given what we've seen, I don't know why I'm arguing."

Duck hesitated. "That would explain things. When I looked at him today, it was like I was trying to recall our last meeting. But there was a blank there, or at the very least, a ton of memories trying very hard to convince me that it was not the case...so, I was taken back to Sodor by Truro. And Diesel?"

Stepney paused. "There were rumors-" He said at last "-floating around following the battle, that they had found failed cloning attempts in the basements of the Other Railway Complex once they invaded. Some notes were found, but those were burned, or incomplete." He thought for a moment, as everyone looked at him like he was crazy. "Or whatev-"

"Mebbe he's got a point."

The last person they had expected to speak was Douglas. He looked around and nodded gravely. "Back when I went ta get Oliver from that awful place, we saw things. It wasnae for long, but I could have sworn on me granny's grave that Diesel, Mavis and BoCo were all there. And then later, when Rusty went ta rescue ye, Stepney, he said that he recognized diesels there. All of them up until tha' point, even yon Class 40."

"But hang about...Mavis was with me on the day that you got Oliver home." Toby interrupted.

"And I can vouch for BoCo's whereabouts on both occasions." agreed Edward. "But that is-" And he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. For a moment, his mouth moved without making a sound, but at last, he was able to get the words out. "Bloody hell...I'd forgotten in-between Shining Time and the grieving and the construction, but...during Sodor's invasion, myself and the little buggers met someone who claimed very much to be BoCo. I...I worked out it wasn't him and executed him straight away. But it was only in what he said that was false. He had everything down to a tee, the tics, the manner of his voice, the way he worded things...he was perfect in every way save for the information that he could not have possibly known!"

Everyone went very quiet.

"Clones." said Oliver, hollowly. "I don't bloody believe it."

"Believe." said Stepney, grimly. "The Other Railway's been crippled, to be sure, but they've had three or so years to rethink their approach."

"That would explain...there was someone who looked an awful lot like Daisy there as well. But we won!" Gordon almost shouted. "We killed their big bad shadowy thing, with f*cking panache, I may add! What do they have left?! What on earth could they possibly do next?!"

No one had an answer for that.

...

On the other side of the Island, Diesel crossed into Barrow. The engine waiting there for him waited for him to give a report.

"Failed." Diesel (Or to be more accurate, D1) admitted. Already, the layers of the prepared personality were folding back to reveal the Facade's somewhat faker nature. "Let emotions get the best of me."

"Of course they did." 87546 looked horrible without his armor on. Have you ever seen a hairless dog? Imagine the engine equivalent of that, sans the metal that acts as their body and everything, except with a ton of scar marks all across. "But it is to be expected."

"I expect to be invited back next year, though. I shall be prepared. I shall make sure that I target someone weaker next time." D1 glanced at the Juggernaut. "And what of the original Diesel?"

"The brainwashing techniques are crude. But they are getting there. Soon, he'll do a far greater job than you ever could at sowing discord." It was not an insult, and D1 did not take it as such. "Did you at least make contact with the last remaining Gotch vehicle?"

"I did." D1 smiled. Like everything, it was a almost flawless copy of a real thing. Almost. "And he's looking forward to doing his bit."

The two engines moved off towards the new HQ of the Other Railway.

Things were going to get VERY interesting in the next few weeks.

* * *

-The events that Douglas are describing are references to Escape and Rusty to the Rescue respectively. Always wondered why there were so many familiar diesels there, even as filler engines. So that's my explanation. Clones.

-Fake BoCo/D3's death took place in Magic Railroad, while the original was killed back in Double Teething Troubles. Also killed was D2, or Daisy's doppelganger. So that's coming back into play.  
-The whole Duck/Diesel alliance played out over most of Season 5, but at the end of it, Diesel had been captured by the Other Railway and reset to 'factory settings'. And we'll be seeing more of that next time.

On a far more somber note, I had just finished writing this up when I heard the news of Roger Moore's passing. With many of the people I've grown up with beginning to pass now, I haven't had much chance to give many tributes. But Moore was my first James Bond, and one of the coolest people I think of, both on the screen and off it. So...yeah, that's why that bit about The Spy Who Loved Me was in there. As a little tribute. Thank you Mr Moore.

Anyway, next time! More cheerful stuff! Luckily, both the Halloween episodes seem to be grouped together fairly well, so there's little problem with the time line there. But we'll also be getting another appearance from another villain there! Hope you enjoy!


	12. Episode 12: Scaredy Engines

I think this might be the show's last legitimately spooky Halloween episode of the classic series. At least, in my opinion, it's entirely possible that I've forgotten one. Therefore, it's a good enough time for me to introduce a character who is going to be very important to the story. And for the record, like the Fat Director, he is not entirely unoriginal. Let you ponder on that for a bit.

By the by, in your reviews, would you prefer me to explore some of the alternate universes in this story, or in Tales from Abridgement? Cause last time, one of the issues was that the parody and the story interfered too much, so I want to fix that as best as I can.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Same here. And considering that it was around this time that the movie was released...yeah, it's a hell of a coincidence.

 **Reality Rejection Service:** Damn straight! She's one vindictive force of nature, is karma!

 **Bronze Shield:** Absolutely.

 **Game-Watch:** Yeah, well, Diesel's a bit of a prat. A clever prat, but one none the less.

 **TrainManiac:** Yeah, a lot of the things I've planted as hints back in the first volume will be coming into play here. As I said, I have a lot of plans prepared. Angelis going full-Yorkshire though is why I always like his Fat Controller voice more than any others...except maybe Baldwin's. Actually, GTAT is aways a way, but hopefully you enjoy this one just as well!

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** Pretty much!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** RIGHT? It was like the story was originally intended for someone else completely. Don't get me wrong, it's a great episode, but Diesel doesn't feel nearly as Diesel-like as he usually does.

 **UGX7:** Moore's films are definitely products of the time. But in many ways, I appreciate them all the more. They're fun, and there are those amongst them that I would legitimately call great examples of the franchise. Plus they were my first exposures to the franchise, and for that, I shall be forever grateful.

 **trestonfortson2016** : Thank you. Yeah, if you take a look at them, just bear in mind that they are products of the time they were made in (The Connery ones especially), so there will be stuff in there that does raise an eyebrow. But they are great stuff. And Roger Moore was and always will be the best.

 **Hughie96:** Thank you!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

For once, it was actually the time of year that it was supposed to be on the Island of Sodor. In this case, Halloween. The engines look forward to Halloween, as it is the only time of the year when scaring people is kinda encouraged. Hence there are often many hi-jinks that ensue. These include:

-Regular attempts by Gordon and James to mess with Edward by moving his glass of beer every time he turned his back.  
-Henry getting freaked out by Salty and Percy messing around with the Flying Kipper.  
-Endless amounts of horror movie marathons.

They also love the Fat Controller's fireworks, kept from the public eye until this time of year as Hatt tends to get a little bit power mad and sets them off in people's is apparently illegal. Go figure. Also, the children dressing up as wizards and witches. We'll ignore the ones who came as Frankenstein's Monster, Mummy's and Devil's though, I guess.

They also love Edward's spooky stories.

...

"Come on guys." sighed Edward. "Everytime I tell one of these, you get all sarcastic on me. What if I don't do one this year?"

"Now Edward-" said Henry, faux-kindly "-don't make us use peer pressure."

"I'm not going to do it."

"DO IT EDWARD DO IT EDWARD DO IT EDWARD DO IT EDWARD DO IT EDWARD DO IT EDWARD-"

"ALL RIGHT YOU...lovely people." Edward shouted through gritted teeth. "All right, now this is a horror story...

...

THIRTY MINUTES LATER.

"And they say, on Halloween Nights like this one, the ghost engine returns to the Smelters Yard, still searching for his lost whistle...and if you go there on that night, then he'll take your instead!"

"Ooooh."

"Aaaaah."

"Spooky."

"SEE! You're being sarcastic again!" Edward looked upset.

"Well, I'm sorry, Edward, but it is a bit silly." Duck rolled his eyes. "Like, for example, the fact that the ghost engine appears to be just Donald minus his tender and with a red filter thrown on him."

"That's the artist's rendering! It's far more spectral than that!" Edward looked grumpy. "Right, that's it. I'm going to meet up with Toby and Douglas at Wellsworth. We're going to eat sweets, gorge ourselves on horror movies both great and silly and have a fun time as friends who don't make fun of each other! Goodnight!" And off he stormed.

"I feel so bad." Henry said, completely deadpan.

The Fat Controller arrived soon after. "THOMAS, PERCY AND DUCK!"

"Turn it down a little, sir." said Duck, mildly.

"SORRY DUCK, I'M A LITTLE HARD OF HEARING! CAN'T HEAR A WORD! I HAVE A SPECIAL JOB FOR YOU. CHUFF OFF TO THE SMELTERS AND GET SCRAP! ...WHY I WAITED UNTIL NIGHT TIME, I HAD NO IDEA."

"Oh boy." said Duck. He was savvy to the ways of the Halloween episode.

"ON HALLOWEEEEN!?" shrieked Percy, hamming it up something fierce.

"DON'T WORRY! YOU SHALL BE BACK IN TIME FOR MY FIREWORKS! HO HO HO!"

"Oh, that's not what he's worried about." Thomas grinned, slyly.

"Now, Thomas-" warned Duck "-do you not remember the other times that you've tried this plot? I seem to recall you spending the night in the sheds whimpering for most of the night last time."

"That was different. CAUSE PERCY'S A SCAREDY ENGINE!"

"What wit." muttered Gordon.

"I AM NOT!"

"You are."

"NOT!"

"ARE!"

"NOT!"

"ARE!"

"Oh, god, I've got to put up with THIS all the way to the Smelters!" ranted Duck as they set off.

...

At the Smelters, all Percy could think about was whether or not combining sponge cake and chocolate cake together would create the ultimate taste experience.

Also, Edward's ghost story.

Thomas knew that Percy was scared and teased him mercilessly. Well, even more so than usual. All the while, Duck tried to not euthanize himself. It was getting harder and harder with every day.

"OH MY, PERCY, WHAT IS THAT UP THERE? IS IT A SPOOK?!"

Thomas, as you can tell, is both a bit of an idiot, and not a very good actor.

"It's just a broken piece of scrap!" snapped Percy nervously. So nervously in fact that most of his words sort of began to merge into one giant one. His voice also appeared to have risen somewhat in recent times. "ISN'T IT, DUCK!?"

"Sure thing, Perce." said Duck, fixing firmly upon his Dan Dare paperback. Thomas had much more fun throughout the day.

"CAREFUL OR THE GHOST WILL GET YOU! BOOGAGAGAGAGA!"

"Oh real mature, Thomas! There's no such things as ghosts!" Percy looked, however, miserable. Duck sighed, and put away his book. Despite his best efforts not to, he couldn't help but feel sorry for his pal.

"Come on, mate. It'll be fine. Thomas is just having his 'I'm a Dick who has his own show' phase." Duck frowned. "Now that I think about it, he goes through that phase every few years or so. Wonder if that's a trend or something. Anyway. Nobody's brave all the time! Take me for instance! Why, just like week..."

...

LAST WEEK.

"Ah, now this is nice." Duck sighed, and leaned back in his shed. He glanced down at his book and read out loud:

"-And so James moaned as Henry rammed his flying kipper down his-"

Duck slammed the book down and stormed out of the shed in search of it's other usual occupant, who was currently giggling. "OLIVER YOU BASTARD!"

...

"Slash fic, man. It can mess with your head." Duck shuddered. "Now I'm paranoid that Oliver's done similar stuff with all my other books. That was just Winnie the Pooh! What's he going to do for Silence of the Lambs!?" He stared off into the distance before snapping back to the matter at hand. "Sorry, we were talking about something, weren't we?"

"I AM NOT. A. SCAREDY. ENGINE."

"Course not." said Duck sympathetically. "I tell you what it is, it's the tablets. They're messing with you a little bit. I told the doctor not to give them to you at this late a time, next thing you'll know, you'll be tripping on the walls and moonwalking all over the place."

Percy moved off, while Duck thoughtfully checked his copy of Watership Down. And then quickly shut it again, determined to make Oliver pay.

Eventually, the job was nearly done. "WELL DONE!" declared Mr Price, the foreman. "Now I need one engine to finish up!" He gave them all an evil eye, which was rather odd to say the least.

Duck instantly saw the chance for payback on Thomas. "Please sir!" he said, using his most grovelling voice imaginable. "I'm sure that Thomas is just dying to stay the night here!"

"WHA-I mean, of course!" cried Thomas, realizing that his (all in his head) status of being the alpha dog was being challenged. "I'm not a scaredy engine!" He was very confused when Duck began snickering to himself under his breath. Both engines left.

At which point, the doors slammed shut.

"Well that's...unnecessary." Thomas muttered to himself. "I mean, what if I need to get the trucks out in time?! And...And..." He fell silent. Every sound, now that he was alone, was spooky. The sound of an old cab tilting in the wind sounded like the rattle of chains. The sparks flying hissed and crackled, like the wheezy whisper of someone long gone. The wind blew strongly, and a cobweb floated down. It brushed against Thomas.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah-okay, I'm fine. I'm fine." Thomas said. "No such thing as ghosts, do you hear me? No. Such. Thing." He smiled. It didn't last long. "Come on, how did that song go? Ah. Boo boo, choo choo...Don't be afraid of the dark. It's easily explained you see Why things go-"

Bump.

Thomas froze. "WHO'S THERE?! You want to come out, and FIGHT?!" He was so busy looking for ghosts that he rushed backwards, not looking where he was going. He apparently didn't notice the massive red light that was shining upon him. He also apparently didn't notice the chains, which were like ghost fingers. Which on a side note, would be an awesome name for a biscuit.

"GHOST'S GOT ME!" Thomas wheeshed. "Now...Now calm down! How did that song go? Oh yeah, closed his eyes, counted to ten and remembered the wise old owl-"

Said wise old owl swooped down in front of Thomas, causing the Number One engine to almost do a number two out of sheer fright. At which point, an old steam whistle suddenly activated, hissing steam everywhere. "THE GHOST WHISTLE! I AM SLAYED!" screamed Thomas, and he ran off wildly screaming like a southern belle out of an old black and white movie. For some reason, the doors opened for him, and he shot through, the sight of two pinpricks of light in the darkness spurring him on even faster, so fast that he didn't realize that he had lost his lantern.

"THE GHOST ENGINE IS AFTER ME!"

If you asked the duck at the watermill what the engine was babbling on about, he would merely respond with "Quack." Because it's a duck. It would, however, be a very confused quack.

...

"It was a bit of a dick move, teasing you like that." said Duck, thoughtfully.

"Ah well, he was only playing." said Percy, magnanmous after having escaped from the death trap that was the Smelters. "I hope he hurries up! He might miss the fireworks!"

"HE'S AFTER ME!"

"I don't think he'll be late." snickered Duck, as Thomas rushed through the station and plunged into the darkness.

"Did you time that?"

"No, it was just a great bit of bloody luck! And let me just say, it's made this night entirely! Come on, let's see if we can't get an explanation from him!" And so they headed off until they joined the other engines for the fireworks. Edward had stopped by briefly to stock up on more snacks for his and Toby's movie night.

"Where's Thomas? He'll miss this!"

"It would serve him right for that teasing." muttered Duck.

"Yeah, but-" Percy hesitated. "-well, you know him. What if he's accidentally gone and hit a wall somewhere? Or come off the rails? Or both?" He shook his head. "Nah. I'm going to find him."

"You're a good engine, Perce- OI! OLIVER! A WORD WITH YOU, NOW!"

Percy found Thomas quivering under a blanket in the shed. "Er, are you okay, Thomas?"

"ME?!" shrieked Thomas, the blanket being thrown off with some force. "I'M FINE! I'M DANDY! I'M BEANO, AS A MATTER OF FACT! I'M THE HAP-HAP-HAPPIEST KID IN THE WORLD! I FEEL LIKE I'M IN F**KING DISNEYLAND RIGHT NOW! WHOOP-DE-DOO, I CAN JUST EXPLODE FROM HAPPINESS RIGHT NOW!"

"...You don't look happy."

"Pah." Thomas, most of his tension having gone out with his rant, went limp. "So I was a bit of a dick to you today."

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

"Duck was right. We all get scared sometimes."

"And say sorry as well! Come on, we can watch the fireworks just as well from here! And we don't have to listen to Gordon all night!"

And he was right.

On a unrelated note, Mr Price was later arrested by four teenagers dressed in sixties-esque clothing and their dog for running a counterfeiting scheme behind closed doors, using the legend of the old ghost to cover up this business. When asked for a quote on the matter, Mr Price did remark "I would have gotten away with it to, if it weren't for those meddling kids, and their dumb dog."

...

A few seconds later, long after everyone had gone home for the night, two pinpricks of light slowly faded into existence. They peered one way. Then the other. And with a quiet chuckle, it's attention turned to a lantern, dropped by Thomas in his fright.

And then he looked up, past the roof, past the sky, past even the space, to an audience that only he could see.

 _"Happy Halloween."_ he said, and along with the lamp, he vanished into nothing.


	13. Episode 13: Percy and the Haunted Mine

Glad to see that little cliffhanger got everyone so interested! And I'll say right now, there are going to be some loose threads that are going to be tied up from the previous volume.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yeah, I'd agree with you there. It's weird, because Season 8 is probably the season that I think was closest to being good. Perhaps if David Mitton had stayed on, the music was the original stuff, it would be good. Not great, but decent. But there are some decent episodes in that first season of HIT's.

 **Reality Rejection Service:** By this point, what doesn't exist in this wacky universe?

 **Bronze Shield:** One of my favorite tropes is when characters find out the very weird stuff that they've been involved in. This was one such example of taking the relatively strait-laced character of Duck and having him...react.

 **Game-Watch:** Same.

 **TrainManiac:** Ha! Yeah, that was a fun scene to write.

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** Hmm...an interesting theory. Let's see, shall we?

 **Radical Sandwiches:** I'm a simple man. I see praise for a joke, I extend it! And yeah, Thomas was an ass that time around.

 **UGX7:** Holy shit man, you too!? I love Watership Down, probably one of my favorites! The film's great, and I'm curious to see how they'll adapt it for the new show...also, you really don't want to know what Oliver did.

 **MattPrice01:** You guessed correctly! And, er, as to what this story exactly is? ...I'm not entirely sure myself.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

In the summertime when the weather is hot, you can stretch right up and touch the sky. When the weather's fine, you got women, you got women on your mind-

Ahem, sorry. Waxing lyrical there.

Anyway it isn't summertime, despite what the script might try and convince you. No, it's November. Seriously. Just...just take our word for it, all right? It was Halloween last episode.

But enough about that. It was the time of year when the Best Kept Station Contest came around once more, where the stationmasters decided to out-do each other on how pretty they could make their stations looked, before they returned to their usual state of looking like a crack den. The engines love to help to, as it gets them out of doing more boring work that's less rewarding.

"So, Oliver." said Stepney as he passed him "Duck let you back in the shed yet?"

"No." Oliver was looking grumpy. "I didn't get saved from scrap for this!"

"Of...course not, Oliver."

...

One morning, the Fat Controller came to the sheds. "EH, BAH GUM." He said at random. No one bothered to comment on it, they had gotten far more used to this over the last few months. "I want Percy ta collect some flower bushes for Lower Tidmouth Station!"

"Some what?"

"Bushes!" Carlin grinned. "Perfect timing. I could have used a hit off this thing."

"They are at Maithwaite!"

"Oh balls." said Percy, and he set off.

...

"Okay, Gordon, what are we doing here? It's sunset. I've got things to be doing. I have a life outside of being your punching bag, you know."

"Pfft. No you don't." Gordon didn't see the slight shadow that crossed Edward's face at that. "And as to what it is that we're doing here...I've decided I need a shed."

"Gordon, this is a new level of arrogance. We're not getting you a shed all to yourself!"

"Oh, no no no, not like that. ...Although that is an idea that could work. I am, after all, the most important engine on the planet. Why should I have to share it with all of you?" Gordon paused. "Nah. I'm talking a garden shed. Where else am I going to keep all of my stuff?"

Edward blinked. "Where we all keep our stuff. In our sheds. The ones we live in."

"What?! And run the risk of having James or Percy mess it up!? Ha! I think not!" Gordon grinned. "And Shed World is the place to find a real shed for all of my stuff! You're here to carry it! I need to think my plans through, I can't waste even the iota of strength it would take me to pull it along."

"I hate you sometimes, Gordon."

...

Percy puffed anxiously through the fog. "OOOH ER!" He wailed. He doesn't like travelling to Maithwaite at night. He is afraid that there will materialize large lime carts that seek to cover him in horrible stuff that takes ages to come out. Also, hoodlums.

Said hoodlums resided, for the most part, in an area where a junction ran past a spooky old quarry-mine. One would assume that they would make up their mind as to whether or not it was a quarry or a mine, but no. Quarry-mine.

Carlin was pleased, however. He wanted to get more crack from the dealer who worked in the old mine to cope with the relentless pains of old age. He was hoping the exact opposite of Percy, who was praying that the signal was set at green. Neither he, nor the fireman, wanted to stop anywhere near that mine without a good set of bodyguards with them.

Unfortunately, the plot had to happen. The signal was red.

"You know-" said Percy casually, in an attempt to stave off fear "-I don't quite recall there being a mine of this size being on the Island before."

"Must be another bloody mystery." muttered the fireman, as he watched Carlin rush over to the old building.

At which point, something very odd happened. A large smokestack beside the mine had been standing there, puffing away as per usual...when it began to sink into the ground. Not collapse, like most things would do. No, one moment it was there, the next it had slid down like a fireman going down a pole.

"Did...did that just happen?"

"BOUNCING BUFFERS!" shouted Percy, who had a stronger reaction than the fireman. Carlin climbed back on board, high as all hell and none the wiser as to the disappearance of the chimney. Which meant he was either blind, deaf, dumb, or all three at the same time.

The second the signal changed, Percy was off like a shot.

...

The next day, he was telling the twins about the missing chimney. Both of them found this hilarious, for some reason. They were bored at Maron, and so decided to screw around with Percy some more.

"It's tha naughty gnomes!" said Donald, randomly plucking a mythical creature out of the air...or out of his arse, same difference.

"Wee fat men with big feet! They make straaaange things happen!" Douglas was hamming it up a little bit for the benefit of the smirking trucks, who for once weren't giving the game away with their cackling. "It's legendary what they do ta ye! They steal yon wheels and pinch yer funnels! That's how yon diesels came to be, victims of the gnome crisis of 1937!"

"They were the ones who assassinated tha Archduke at the beginning of World War One!"

"They shot JFK!"

"They spoke ta that wee crazy bastard who thought Catcher in the Rye was telling them ta murder people!"

"They commissioned Eldorado!"

Percy, who was suffering from injuries sustained during the Magic Railroad crisis, suffered a little bit from what they called being an idiot. He didn't want to believe what the two obviously lying engines was saying, but he wasn't sure.

He puffed off, leaving Donald and Douglas to watch in amusement as Edward pulled seventeen sheds behind him, wheezing all the way. "Bloody Gordon!" He hissed as he passed.

...

At Dryaw station, the Fat Controller was drunk on the platform. He made up the excuse that he was waiting for Percy as a reason to vent some of the bitterness that had come about because of the (aptly named) bitter ale he had drunk earlier that day. "I want you...heheheheheh...to go and collect some trucks from t'abandoned mine! Again!"

"Y-yes sir." said Percy. Carlin was, once again, the only happy person there. He was glad that he got to get high twice in one week.

"Right." hissed the fireman. "We get in and out, no problems, no fuss, just get the trucks and then go home." Percy agreed with this plan. Carlin did not, as the second they drew in, he hurried off to take a whiz near the mine.

"SPOOKY!" said Percy, stating the obvious.

At which point, the old building that Carlin had just exited (Having used the toilets) promptly began to sink back into the ground in a similar fashion to the chimney. Carlin was, once again, oblivious to this, wiping his hands on Percy's buffers as he clambered back on.

At which point, he turned around, and spat out his newly bought drink. "The F**K is that?!" He shouted.

"OH! Now you notice!" shrieked Percy. "DOUBLE BOUNCING BUFFERS! I WILL MAKE THIS A SAYING!" And so scared was he, that he rushed forward and smacked his head right into the trucks. At this point, worrying about head trauma was sort of academic.

And then he looked up.

"NAUGHTY GNOMES!"

"Have you been looking at the internet again?" slurred Carlin, now with a concussion. "Cause you can find all sorts of shit on there!" Then he looked up. His inebriated mind decided that this was a wise thing to freak out about, especially the two that had randomly landed feet up without any damage. "AAAAARGH! RETREAT! RETREAT!"

And they did. Swiftly.

...

They arrived back at Lower Tidmouth, everyone bar the fireman screaming bloody murder and weeping for their immortal souls. The Fat Controller wondered if he was still drunk, and if so, could he please become sober soon? This was awkward.

"AAAAAAAH!"

"Carlin-"

"AAAAAAAH!"

"Carlin."

"AAAAAAAAH!"

"CARLIN SHUT THE HELL UP OR I SWEAR TO GOD, I'LL TAKE AWAY YOUR DRINKING PRIVELEGES!" This silenced Carlin. "Now, what's going on?"

"THE MINE SANK AND EVERYONE'S DEAD! ...I'm not sure in what order that goes, but-"

"IT'S THE GNOMES!" wailed Percy. "THE NAUGHTY GNOMES ARE COMING TO GUT US IN OUR SLEEP! AND WEAR THOSE GUTS AS NECKLACES! No doubt this is retribution for all the times we shoved them besides ponds where they did not belong! IT'S LEGENDARY!"

"Oh piss off." said the Fat Controller, who was exhausted. "The buildings are collapsing into old mine shafts, it's perfectly natural. If unsafe, I'll grant you."

"BUT I SAW THE GNOMES!" practically shrieked Percy.

"Well you would. They are garden gnomes."

"...Garden...gnomes?" Percy stared at the Fat Controller in bafflement.

"To decorate this station. They're not scary, they bring good luck, supposedly."

Percy thought for a moment. And then he came up with a sudden realization. "YOU'RE ONE OF THEM, AREN'T YOU SIR!? I'VE ALWAYS THOUGHT YOU WERE A LITTLE TOO SQUAT AND FAT TO BE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING! YOU WERE MERELY A SCOUT FOR THE GNOMEPOCALYPSE!"

"Percy, we're going back there right now to show you."

"I'M NOT SCARED! I'M NOT SCARED! I AM! I AM!" Percy argued as he set off. As he arrived, he waited for something spooky to happen. But it didn't. The Fat Controller was right. The Garden Gnomes were far more ugly than scary. So they were loaded up and brought back quickly.

And later that week, the stationmaster thanked Percy for the victory. "We'd not have won if it weren't for you making a tit of yourself! Again!"

"Oh. Ta. Er...sorry, about that, sir. Naughty gnomes can be lucky after all."

"Fat and Squat, eh? We need to have a word. All of us." Carlin cursed as the Fat Controller grabbed him by the ear.

None of them noticed the faces on the gnomes change _ever so slightly_.

...

Silence reigned over the ghost town of Trumpton. The workmen looked at each other nervously, awaiting the arrival of...that thing.

And then, said thing materialized. First one pupil, then the other. For a moment, it glanced at the humans, who quickly looked away, before making it's way swiftly and silently to the entrance way of the old town hall.

Everyone there snapped to attention the second that it entered.

 _"Where is the Captain?"_ It's voice was a creaky one, no more than a hushed whisper. And yet it carried clearly across the room, more so in fact than had it been shouting.

Reginald, the Captain's second in command, looked at the thing. "Well, your worship-fullness, the captain's...gone off somewhere."

 _"His personal odor is of no concern to me."_

"What? Wait, no, I mean he's...gone somewhere."

 _"Oh."_ The thing quickly covered it's embarrassment over such a mistake with another question. "When will he return?"

"Uh...soon?"

That was not a good enough answer. But it was one that the thing had to deal with. Slowly, it deposited the lantern down on top of a large pile of other lanterns of varying sizes and ages. And then it moved forward slowly, and reached into the body of a battered old narrow gauge engine.

And Ivo Hugh jerked up and stared in fascination at them.

 _"In his absence, shall we discuss the plan once more?"_

...

The old woman who answered the door was soon to regret that she had ever done so. Then again, she was going to regret many things over the course of the remaining five minutes of her life. "You! But that can't-"

"Hello there, Ellen. Now...where's my son?"

* * *

Yes, that is Captain Zero at the end of the chapter. Yes, I will explain what's going to happen. Yes, this is going to be very, VERY important for later on.

Also of note, Gordon and Edward's search for a shed will continue throughout the series. Just to build up another plot I've had in mind for the two of them.

And for those of you who remain from the previous volume, you will recall that Ivo Hugh's body was never recovered from the Other Railway during the events of Magic Railroad. And you'll also recall that one of the glimpses of the Multiverse offered up a pair of glowing eyes shrouded completely in darkness. Say hello to another threat. No name for it yet though. That would be spoiling.


	14. Episode 14: Middle Engine

You know, this episode is fine, but it's a bit of a weird one. Like I say in the fic, it's interesting to see just how James, Percy and Thomas centric this season was. I mean, don't get me wrong, to a lesser extent Season 5 was too. It's just that even those episodes had a more decent spread between the characters. But, whatever, it's fine. The episode itself ends a little weakly in my opinion, no comeuppance for Arry or Bert. Just...end.

Guest: Ta! Glad you enjoyed! Now, the stuff with the old woman will be explained (At maximum) by the time of next season. But I'll be revealing information throughout the next set of episodes that hopefully will reveal more to you.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yeah, Hatt's reached the point now in Percy's rants where he's just looking at his watch to pass the time.

 **Reality Rejection Service:** Well...thing is...ah, but I can't spill the beans just yet. And yeah, Gordon's pissing Edward off something fierce. I'm really excited to write the result of that at a later date. It's going to be a big part of where I'm taking the story.

 **Bronze Shield:** Cariin's pretty much given up on life at this point. And at being even remotely competent at his job.

 **bigyihsuan** **:** Ehhh...Sort of. I mean, I'm not a big fan of Calling All Engines, so it's not going to be anything big. No, Zero's arrival is to set up for the forseeable future. And anything more would ruin the surprise.

 **Game-Watch:** Yeah, it does raise questions, doesn't it?

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** Again, I have to leave some things to the imagination for the time being.

 **UGX7:** Two great questions! Yeah, the cast list is an interesting one as well. I'm fine with them maybe not adapting everything verbatim, but as long as it's as good as the original 78 film, I'm good.

 **MattPrice01:** Carlin does not care ONE iota about anything! This fanfiction is Exorcist meets Attack of the Clones meets the Truman Show. And there's a hint for free!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

The Fat Controller's engines love their work!

Yes, yes, stop laughing. I'm a wonderful comedian, I know. They don't. They hate it. But they manage to tolerate it far better than some others do, which says a lot when you consider their behavior over the previous five seasons. Gordon likes pulling the express, Thomas likes his branchline, Percy likes taking the mail, and James likes it whenever he has to take something with a reflective surface. For...reasons.

But there is one thing that is common. None of the engines like being a middle engine. It's no fun getting stuck in the middle. Unless it's a threesome, or something, in which case, that's okay!

...Ahem. Forget you heard that. James is rubbing off on me.

...

One morning, Percy was cheerfully collecting coal trucks from the smelter's yard. "Nothing can go wrong!" He said, confidently.

"Oh yeah?" said the universe.

The personifications of 'gone wrong' arrived soon thereafter. Arry and Bert (Or rather, the cousins of the original Arry and Bert who had been renamed as such to avoid awkward questions from the kids about why two characters had been randomly renamed) worked there, and enjoyed playing tricks on steam engines. Please ignore the fact that we had to reuse a shot of them sitting besides James from later on in the story.

Percy didn't want to fall for their tricks. Not after the previous Halloween, where he had gone nuts trying to prove that Henry had become a werewolf after the two of them had planted the suggestion in his mind. But he was too late. Before he could do anything, he was shunted between two sets of trucks. "Ohhhhh bother." He said. He didn't say bother, but that was the only thing to really say in polite society.

"Little green piggy in the middle!" heckled Arry, predicting the arrival of Angry Birds by a decade.

Carlin was pissed. With trucks behind and in front of him, he had to go slowly. And that meant that Carlin didn't get to enjoy happy hour nearly as much as he wanted to.

James was in the yard as Percy steamed in. "Why, it's-" He hesitated, and went through a long list of names that he could concievably insult Percy with. He chose the worst of the lot "-Slow-coach Percy! Aren't I a hoot?!"

"You wouldn't be laughing if I was free of these trucks! Or if you were stuck in the middle."

At which point, as Percy approached the coaling plant, the crew realized that they could no longer pay Alec Baldwin the correct amount of money to say the word 'coal cars' more than once. This lead to some very awkward looping which was obvious to all who listened to it. Just a bit of trivia, there.

As he shunted the trucks one by one onto the tipper's loading ramp. He groaned, and wondered to himself whether or not it was too early in the day to get a large vodka and drown in it. He shook himself. There was no such thing as too early in the day for engines like him!

Percy was not allowed to cross the tipping ramp until it had been switched off fully. It was against the rules. For some reason, the operators were taking their sweet time turning off the ramp, leaving everyone concerned to wait for ages. As soon as the driver and fireman had started over to complain about this, trouble struck. It came in the form of Henry, who backed down onto the trucks and shoved Percy forward.

One wonders if Henry should have gone to Specsavers.

Percy gasped in horror as he was pushed onto the ramp. Worse still, it immediately began to move. "OHHHHHHHH BALLS!" He wailed. "Help! I am not a truck, you idiots! Ohhhhhh GETMEOFFGETMEOFFGETMEOFFGETMEOFF-" At which point, he was hoisted up, tipped over and was brought back down again. A lot of boiler sludge was spilled that day.

Henry and Oliver were busy chatting about how odd it was that Percy and James seemed to be getting the most episodes to them this season, as they watched the little tank engine come back to Earth with a whimper. Or several.

The manager was cross. "YOU HAVE CAUSED CONFUSION AND DELAY! Again! I shall have to report this incident that is totally not your fault to the Fat Controller! For drama's sake!"

...

"HOW IS ANY OF THIS MY FAULT!?" raged Percy.

"Yeah, I'm with him on this one." remarked Thomas. "In fact, I'd say it was more down to Henry than anything-"

"PERCY, Y'HAVE DISAPPOINTED ME! You know it is against t'rules to go on t'tipper's loading ramp! And...really, it's bloody common sense as well!"

"I DIDN'T GO ON THERE FOR FUNSIES!" raged Percy. "IT WAS BECAUSE THOSE DIESELS MADE ME A MIDDLE ENGINE AND-"

"Don't care!" He belched, loudly. "I have had a little too much to drink!" He hiccuped. "You are shunting trucks til I can get to the bottom of this!"

"Pah!" snorted James, thinking no one could hear him. A really stupid decision considering that he was sitting on the turntable in spitting distance of Hatt. "I could take those bastards on with bent buffers and a busted boiler and broken bagpipes, and...something else beginning with B."

"Oh could you!?" snapped Hatt. "You'll be doing Percy's run to the Smelters, in that case!"

"Yes sir." said James, meekly.

...

The next day, James arrived at the Smelters, determined not to be fooled by the two diesels. He failed to notice the large 'KICK ME' sign taped to the back of him by Bert. They rolled up alongside him.

"Allo James!" said Arry, cheerfully. "Come to learn a fing from those who know?"

"Piss off." said James, wearily. "Get my trucks ready and stay out of my way."

"Yeah, boss." chuckled Bert.

James didn't think they were being very sincere. But still, as he backed down, he was certain that he had fooled them and impressed upon them that he was a engine not to be messed with.

Then a load of trucks rammed into his face, destroying that illusion. "LITTLE RED PIGGY IN THE MIDDLE!" chortled Arry. Bert groaned. Twice in two days? His brother was losing touch, to say the least.

"Just like Percy!" He said, deciding to destroy the joke even more so than it had been already.

"I AM NOT LIKE PERCY!" shrieked James. "HE'S GREEN AND A FATTY! Whereas I am red! RED RED RED RED! YOU WASH YOUR MOUTH, MISCREANTS! I AM JAMES. WORSHIP ME!" He then realized that he was all on his own and ranting. As per usual. "AND I-" He said, in an impressive sounding voice "-AM NOT MOVIN' ONE INCH!" And he didn't.

...

"Sir, James isn't moving."

Hatt belched again, on his seventh bottle of scotch that day. It was currently quarter to twelve in the morning. "RIDICOLOSUCH." He declared, slurring his words. "SCHEND FOR PERCHY!"

And they did. Once they worked out what it was their boss had said.

"Hi James!" said Percy as he was coupled up to the front of the train. "You're being more of a drag than usual!"

"PAH!" said James. Percy began to laugh as he dragged James along to all the stops that he needed to make. He wasn't quite sure if there was a moral here, aside from the obvious "Don't be an arse." that James always seemed to need reminding of. At last, they pulled into the docks.

"Right on time!" said the manager. "But what's that big red engine doing in the middle? And why have I forgotten the name of the only red engine on the Island?"

"He's very forgettable." agreed Percy. "Also, he's learning!"

"What?"

"To be a middle engine." He paused. "Trust me, it is funnier in context."

James was so embarrassed that he decided to wheesh steam everywhere and try and block his face. But it was no use. There is only one red engine on the Island, and his name is James. Apparently, some people have forgotten that.

At which point, the camera cut out, so they missed the part where Percy ran back and laid down a massive whoopass upon the two diesels. A pity, really.

...

"Nah. It's not for me."

Edward stared at Gordon, then back at the pristine looking shed, and then back to Gordon again. "Why, may I ask?"

"It's too...wooden."

"Yes Gordon. Because it is made of wood. Most sheds tend to be."

"Yeah, but it's a woody wood, you know? I might get termites all over my stuff! And you might be used to that, but I am most definitely not!"

Edward thought very nice thoughts about kittens and flowers and burning Gordon alive and listening to his screams and so merely said through gritted teeth "But the others are all made out of wood too."

"In which case, clearly we need to go shopping again for something with a bit less wood in it!" Gordon grimaced. "Honestly Edward, I leave you to pick the sheds-" This was a blatant lie, but Gordon was so adept at convincing himself that he was right and all else was wrong that he failed to realize this "-and you come back with this!?"

Edward felt like screaming.

...

14/10/00: File 21462A.

Recovery of the remaining projects were a success.

Transportation will be tricky, but not impossible. No sign of last remaining Gotch vehicle. Suspect that the Smiling Tractor is still guarding his burial place. Would not endanger success of mission. Spotted TARGETS. All seem to be in relative good health. Relationships could be examined for signs of weakness. Number Two and Number Four in particular seem to be reacting harshly to each other.

Itinerary as follows:

-Details regarding the recreation of the Rusticide Plague  
-Fat Director's spell book. Just in case.  
-All assets of the Misty Island Project.  
-Location of Marklin's Secret Weapon (NOTE: Would reccomend not approaching this until time is right. If it is as dangerous as Marklin's says, it would be unwise to unleash it before we're completely ready.)  
-Any unfinished Fakes or Diesels that have been left around beneath the main compound.

On unrelated note, as predicted, Iron Circle got to information regarding time portals before us. Not a concern, but may be something to bear in mind.

Will send further update once escaped.

 **J.D**

 **ADDENDUM BY PARTY UNKNOWN.**

With regards to our newcomer...his obsession with lamps and lanterns is beginning to grow unusual. Several of them are included in the latest acquisition. What exactly are you playing at, sir? And for that matter, why The Malignance, for a name? Seems a bit too close to 'You Know Who' for my liking.

But what do I know?

Smoke us a kipper, shall be back soon.

* * *

And for those keeping score at home, a lot of the stuff mentioned in that last section was mentioned in Stepney Gets Lost. The secret weapon is deliberately being kept mysterious for the moment.

The Malignance is what I've decided to call the villain. It fits the theme of the previous villain being similiarly named as such. People have asked what the voice is that I have in mind for him. In this case, it's the voice of one Anton Lesser. You might know him as Chief Inspector Bright from Endeavor, or Qyburn from Game of Thrones. Ah, but if you don't, that's fine. He's a good actor, and I think he manages to convey a lot of menace with the way his voice is. Look him up!

And J.D? Again, we'll have more to say on him at the final episode of this season. The reports are a way to sort of bring us up to speed with regards to the time gap of the show, the last time to my memory that the show took a gap in-between seasons and/or movies.


	15. Episode 15: James and the Red Balloon

Another impromptu tribute in this one: This time to Peter Sallis. Wallace and Gromit and Last of the Summer Wine are both big parts of who I am, and I have to say, it's going to feel weird knowing that he's no longer in the world. Hence, the much referenced Yorkshire comedy is finally getting a proper mention as tribute. It's small, but it's something.

Uh, this episode! Yeah, this is a good one. I like it, it's enjoyable. I think the music is great, especially the theme for the titular balloon. I think James overreacting once again is great, even if it does reach the point of parody now. Oh, and there are quick references to the Red Balloon music video, with the editing to appear in Making Someone Happy and Train Stops Play. Just for fun.

Oh, random question that I'm just going to ask because I'm bored. Who is your favorite character from the story? Again, you don't need to do this, I'd just be curious to find out your opinions!

 **AaronCottrell97:** I know! Bizarre, right? I'm glad to hear that! As you can tell, it's taking a turn in this chapter. Again, for the moment it's just comedic...but who knows? ...FORESHADOWING.

 **Reality Rejection Service:** Eh...sort of. It'll be explained in more detail later, as per usual. And the build up COMMENCES! Honestly, Edward's being quite tame. It's not going to go well for him in this chapter, either.

 **Bronze Shield:** Yeah, going into Magic Railroad, that was something that I wanted to explore. Considering that by that point, Diesel had been written off in a decent manner, it would have been interesting to have them become the more manipulative baddies. But no, petty stuff is what they'll be doing.

 **Game-Watch:** Oh don't worry. Things are going to begin to build up to a crux.

 **UGX7:** One of those questions will be answered by the last episode of the season. The other...well, I'm going to say that it'll be revealed fully around about Season 8 or 9. I just don't want to give the game away yet.

 **Radical sandwhiches:** That's a completely legitimate worry to have! But the thing is, I do have a plan to establish the Malignance as being of a different kettle of fish to the Malevolence over time. The nickname itself is only going to be used up until I reveal what exactly it is, and by then, you should have an idea of how they are different.

 **MattPrice01:** Maybe it's just because I was convinced that Angelis's...somewhat below average performances started to an extent in Season 7, but I was surprised by how fun his narration is. He's putting more effort into it than Alec Baldwin, an actual Hollywood actor! Oh, and that Edward/Gordon stuff? It is leading into that, to be sure. But there is something else that I've had in mind, something that ties in with the arrival of a certain Stirling engine in the next season. Fun fact, when the time comes, I am going to ANALYSE the shit out of my decision to so. So, just a warning! XD.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

Last of the Summer Wine Night was usually a somewhat calm affair. It was something to usually calm down the rather excitable engines of the shed with something that wasn't exactly going to give them heart attacks. Of course, it had all gone a bit weird since Bill Owen had died, but it was still somewhat enjoyable to watch. It had Peter Sallis in it, and Peter Sallis equaled impressive to all the engines.

Usually, however, was the key word in the sentence.

"I don't see-" seethed Edward, rage hidden behind a rictus like grin that was weakening by the second "-why it is I have to go out and get the shed NOW! It's freezing out there, and we can just as easily do it in the afternoon!"

"And risk going out in inclement weather!?"

"It is night!" Edward said, barely restraining himself. "Night-time's clemency has never been a factor in any of our decisions! This is just a way to make me suffer, isn't it?" He turned, hoping to find some comfort from some engine. But they were all busy watching the TV. Sensing that his staying here would only make matters worse, he reluctantly dragged himself outside, and shivering, set off into the distance.

...

It's summer holiday time on the Island of Sodor...in a parallel universe where this takes place in the summer. Because the next episode is set in WINTER! So we're going to grin and bear our way through the next four minutes because the timing is all off! I WANT LOGIC FROM MY SHOW ABOUT TALKING TRAINS DAMN IT!

Ahem. Sorry. Long day.

Holidaymakers come from far and wide to enjoy the beauty of the Island. And then they leave quickly afterwards because it's not nearly as impressive as the brochures make it out to be. It's the busiest time of the year for all of the Fat Controller's engines. Apart from all the other times that we will be told the exact opposite. I wish they'd make up their minds.

Thomas was excited. When isn't he, I hear you ask. He had been chosen to take a special special special that was special to Dryaw Airfield. Percy, wanting to see if it was something that could ruin Harold the Helicopter's day, arrived cheerfully.

"WHHHHHAT have you got there?!" He said, trying to hype it up as much as possible.

"A BALLOON!" said Thomas, also trying to do the same. It wasn't as effective as he had hoped. "Just...just roll with the punches, okay?"

"Fair enough. Is it a party balloon!?"

"NO, YOU SILLY BILLY!" Thomas laughed and laughed and laughed until he began to wish he were dead, before stopping. "It's a very special, unique, super-secret-awesome-great balloon. One that they shall write songs about for some reason. And yet Henry's yet to get a single song about him!" And he sped off before this painful segment could get any more awkward.

...

As he puffed off, Thomas saw-

"LOOK AT ME! I'M TIGER BLOODY MOTH!"

-that guy, and arrived at the airfield with plenty of time to kill. So he sat and watched as the enthusiasts, who had little to no life left in them outside of this, puffed hot air into the balloon.

"You know-" said Thomas, casually "-it just really looks like a normal balloon, really. Except, you know, it looks massive because of the perspective of the shot." He paused. "I'll shut up now-"

"WHAT THE FRICKETY FRICK IS THAT!?"

"Ah, hello James. Still discovering Internet Speak, I see." Thomas looked back to the balloon. "It's a hot air balloon. Keep talking and you'll give it more power!" he paused. "Cause...cause hot air, right? ...Fine. It's taking holiday makers round the Island."

"BUT THAT'S OUR JOB!" raged James. "THAT BALLOON IS TRYING TO TAKE MY SPOT ON THE SHOW!"

"Certainly could act better than you."

"WHAT WAS THAT, DRIVER OF MINE?!"

"You heard."

And then as if by magic, or...you know, the law of physics, the balloon rose up into the air.

"But WHAT-" cried James "-will happen if this...balloon, if that is it's real name, decides to take our passengers!? WHAT. WILL. HAPPEN. TO. US. THEN?!"

"Very dramatic James. It would be more effective if you hadn't raised the complaints about Harold, Harvey, several Diesels, the advent of the Smart Car, that one time that hang-gliding became a craze-"

"CAN'T HEAR YOU GOING TO SPREAD THE GOSPEL!" And so James shoved off. Thomas, despite his best efforts, couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry. And then he felt extremely stupid because it was a balloon, for gods sake.

The balloon could be seen by all. Duck was staring at it for so long, wondering whether or not it was an enemy weapon of mass destruction, that he ran into the back of Stepney.

"Ooof! I didn't come here for this, you know!" Stepney sighed. "Well, you want to keep watching this?"

"I've got nothing at all better to do."

"WHY-" cried Donald, who was feeling like saying something particularly stupid today "-tis a floating basket with folk innit!"

Douglas rolled his eyes and poured as much sarcasm as he could muster in his own contribution. "What ever will they think of next?" Because apparently the concept of a hot air balloon had never been even conceived of on the Island, traffic halted, fire-engines came to a stop and Gordon temporarily forgot about being an arsehole. It was a miracle.

...

At the level crossing, Thomas and James had met up again. They waited for Jorge, the Spanish cousin of George the Steamroller, to cross. And they were still bitching to each other about the red balloon.

"Well, I mean, if it takes out passengers away, what use will there be for us then?" Thomas intended there to be much sarcasm in his voice. He didn't quite pull it off.

"Passengers should travel on rails, instead of in silly balloons! WE MUST SHUN THOSE WHO WOULD CHOOSE SUCH A THING! SHUN THEM! SHUN THE-Aye up?"

The balloon was coming down at a tremendous rate. "WE'RE OUT OF HOT AIR!" wailed the balloonist.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH." screamed James, as per usual, the most level headed of engines. "Wha's happening?! OOH ER, I DON'T LIKE IT! MAKE IT GO AWAY-MMMPH!"

"Ah well-" sighed Thomas, as the red balloon covered James completely "-there are worse ways to go. And at least I'll get one hell of a story to tell at his funeral!"

James, meanwhile, was so scared that he:

A: Passed out.

B: Let out such a long and loud whoosh of steam that flooded the balloon and suffocated two or three people in his cab. But on the plus side, it ended up lifting the balloon up again, back into the air.

"Well done, James!" said the air-deprived driver, trying to recover his somewhat worse-off fireman. "Your hot air has been useful at last!"

"James, you boob!" snapped Thomas. "You have DESTROYED everything and now the red balloon shall get all of the passengers!" He didn't really care that much. Any excuse to mess with James, and/or to have an excuse to blame him for their eventual failure.

"I didn't mean too!" wailed James, for once aware that there was no way to foist this onto someone else. And where ever he went for the rest of the day, he saw the balloon carrying holiday-makers, as if to mock him.

His rage was unlike that anyone had ever seen before. "RAILS-" He roared "-ARE BETTER THAN HOT AIR ANYDAY-OH F**K A SHEEP!"

One delay later, he arrived at the station to see the Fat Controller, having been lifted from a large ditch by Butch, standing there waiting for him. "Well done, James!"

"BUT NOW THE PASSENGERS SHALL RIDE IN THE HOT AIR BALLOON AND ALL SHALL BE LOST! LOST I SAY!" The Fat Controller laughed. "Well I'm glad you're having a nice time of it, sir! IT'S OUR LIVES WE'RE TALKING ABOUT HERE!"

"Yes James, they will come to see the balloon. And they'll need a ride home...in a train what a shocker!"

James was delighted, and for the rest of the day, he extolled hard the virtues of our one true lord and savior The Big Red Balloon. It was even rumored that thanks to his somewhat overhyped declarations, an entire cult started up around said Big Red Balloon. Rumors came about regarding the Red Balloon's involvement in events such as Mrs Kyndley's ride in Harold, or the cricket game that Stepney had interrupted. Legend had it that it was thanks to a combination of Cyril the Fogman and the Red Balloon that the Malevolence was destroyed.

They were busier than ever, the engines, as the Fat Controller was right.

Whenever James sees the Red Balloon, he whistles and toots. Some say this is because he is proud of it. Others say he wants the people in it to die so that he may claim it for his own. This interpretation is helped by the fact that at night, he dreams that he can fly like the Red Balloon.

What I'm basically saying is that the Red Balloon potentially needs a restraining order.

...

Meanwhile, somewhere between Aisle 1931 and Aisle 1940 of Shed World, a very confused blue mixed traffic engine stared at the map in befuddlement.

"I swear to God, next time, I'm just going to head off to the quarry and crash out there for a few weeks. It's far easier that way." He paused. "Besides, they'll come look for me soon...right?

Right?

...Riiiight?"

He paused. No one answered him.

"I'm going to die here." he stated, glumly.


	16. Episode 16: Jack Frost

So this one is unique. I'd never seen this one before until I started writing it. Must be because it was one of those episodes that wasn't widely released like the other episodes. Hope you enjoy it.

Also, of note, gonna give ANOTHER little tribute to my first Batman, Adam West. Because apparently everyone appears to be dying at the moment.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yeah, he kept the show afloat, really. That sheep line, by the way, was me just randomly shoving in a bit because I figured "Eh, it'll make people laugh!" Glad you enjoyed it!

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Yes, he took the wrong lesson away from this episode.

 **Bronze Shield:** Heh! Saw him in the ep and figured "Eh, why not?"

 **Game-Watch:** Exactly. Hard work! James's worst fear.

 **UGX7:** Thomas, when he's not being a dick, has become the shit-stirrer of the engine community.

 **Radical sandwhiches:** Probably. James/Red Balloon OTP.

 **MattPrice01:** Let's be honest, the fact is I pretty much DID have a giant monster attack! And...yeah, hold that thought about forms of logic, cause again, super-analytical chapter in Season 8! I also watched Curse of the Were Rabbit. That ending takes on a whole new meaning with him gone...ah well. Hope you enjoy this silly story!

 **trestonfortson2016:** Thank you! Carlin's a great character to write, as is Duck. Sane characters in a world of madness are a blast to write for me. Early season Thomas is an interesting choice! I admit to having a lot of fun writing him as this childish idiot, but I do like that I've sort of developed him along similar lines to how the show did.

 **Hughie96:** One of the nicest comments I've seen in a while, and that says a lot seeing as most of the comments are great!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

"It's snowing again."

"Tell me something I don't know, Gordon."

It was winter on the Island of Sodor...I guess!? Honestly, trying to keep track of the Island's seasons and/or weather patterns is a bit like trying to understand how finances work. It can be explained, but no one will be happy and/or enthused by the end of the talk. In particular, it was an icy day that made everyone panic over every turn of the wheels. The engines were working hard, for they didn't mind the cold.

Let's just laugh it out of your system. We all know that isn't true.

All right, to be frank, they weren't complaining as much because of the warmth of their fires. And also because their drivers and firemen would repeatedly wrap them up in wool in an attempt to smother their complaints.

On this evening, the Fat Controller came to the sheds. The engines had apparently forgotten that Edward was now missing, and hadn't been seen for three days, so concerned were they with being a little chilly. And when you say it like that, it sounds kind of bad, doesn't it?

"THERE'S A BIG FREEZE COMING TONIGHT!" He declared, in full Yorkshire mode. "There will be trouble at t'mill, and at the stations! So, James and Percy, get your arses in gear, you'll be delivering some extra coal to all the stations! Try to ignore the smell at Lower Tidmouth, the stationmaster's on the drink again and he's decided to shun the use of a official toilet."

No one wanted to think about that, so the two engines merely stated "Yes sir." and prepared to start off. The Fat Controller drove off...right into the wall, so he was forced to limp off in the general direction of a bench where he would spend the night flat out.

Thomas decided to pick up the baton of dickery that was being passed around the sheds recently, and having not learnt much from the incident at the Smelters, decided to scare the shit out of Percy again. "You'd better hurry, Percy, or Scary Jack Frost might get you and turn you into an icicle!" He paused, and added for effect what he thought a ghost sounded like. "Oooooooooooh."

"Terrifying." said Henry, with as much dryness as he could muster in the current situation.

"Who's Jack Frost?" asked Percy, who hadn't been taking his pills recently for his head wounds.

"No, it's Scary JacK Frost!" Thomas was very insistant. "That's his full name, don't you know?"

"PAH! Don't be silly!" James, who was in no position to argue over stupidity given the Red Balloon incident, was eager to start off. "Jack Frost is not real! In fact, he's not even scary!"

"Yes he is."

"No he isn't."

"Yes he is!"

"No HE ISN'T!"

"He is ALL WHITE with a big spiky face! ...Sounds a bit racist when I say it like that, but it's the truth! Would I lie?"

Percy stared at Thomas. "Yes. Yes you would."

"RABB-...RUBBISH!" James amended hastily, and rushed away before anyone could pick up on his slip of the tongue. He knew that Jack Frost wasn't scary, but Percy wasn't sure. If Toby or Duck had been here, they would have knocked some sense into the two of them. Unfortunately, they weren't.

...

The two engines set off from different points from the coaling plant. That way, they could hopefully meet up once they were halfway across the Island, and then go home and get some kip.

Naturally, on a night like this, the spooky owls were busy making a lot of noise to distract them. Twigs cracked underwheel, the wind whistled through every crack and hole in the area, a pair of glowing pupils illuminated the night-

Percy did a double take. But there was nothing there.

Clearly he was going a little insane. He shivered, and growled as Thomas's smug face came into view. "Jack Frost is not scary, Jack Frost is not scary, Jack Frost is not scary!"

"OH YES HE IS!" cries the audience.

Percy wondered when he had entered into a pantomime, and then realized that having not gotten any sleep, he was actually hallucinating a whole lot of things at this moment.

Elsewhere, James had just entered the valley that lead to Henry's Forest. "Silly Percy with his silly beliefs, all steamed up over silly Jack Frost and that silly story about silly Jack Frost! What a silly-bill-WHATTHEHELLWASTHATNOISE?!"

"It's a horse, James."

"Ah...right."

...

Percy's last delivery was to the station of Lower Suddery. He didn't really understand why, as he knew that the station was closing down soon because of some sort of cost-cutting measure that the Railway Board had suggested to the Fat Controller.

Edward, wherever he was, was going to have words to say about that.

The stationmaster, glad that he would get some rendundancy packages sooner, arrived to spot Percy and cheerfully waved. "Oi! You! Green engine! We're going to need twice as much coal to keep the village warm!"

Percy sighed. He didn't want to sleep in a nice warm shed anyway. "Sure thing, this is my last stop. I suppose I can wait the night. You can have mine. Please for the love of God, don't waste it on something stupid."

"Us? Stupid?"

"Yes, well, living on this Island makes you a little paranoid about these things."

Carlin parked him a siding, put out his fire and left him with only a lantern for company. "Do you think scary Jack Frost will find me?"

"Probably!"

The fireman punched Carlin on the shoulder.

"I mean...nah. Jack Frost isn't scary. He's a real teddy bear. And Elizabeth'll be bringing you more coal in the morning...so you have that to look forward to! Have fun!" He said with far too much cheer for Percy's liking, and headed off arm in arm with the stationmaster to the local pub, known simply as 'The Staggered Gentleman' for nourishment and a lot of fun.

Percy wondered if this good Samaritan streak was worth it.

Late at night, the icy wind howled across, blowing large chunks of snow and sleet down upon everything in sight. Percy groaned and wondered why it was that this was always what happened to him. Why was it that he was the one who had to deal with the freaky weather on such a regular basis? And soon, it was so cold that icicles hung everywhere, even from Percy's nose.

"Bloody hell, this is some very impressive icicles! How the hell do they form in these positions?!" Of course, to anyone other than Percy, this sounded like...well, muffled nonsense. Or the average speech of a politician. Zing. "Ohhhhhhh b-b-b-bother." He sounded like Winnie the Pooh with a stutter now.

...

James had arrived at Wellsworth, the last stop on the journey around the Island, and dropped the last of his coal trucks off there. Once more, Edward was nowhere to be found. James, however, didn't care. He wanted to get home as quickly as possible. So instead of waiting for Percy, as had been agreed, he shoved off through the rising snow.

Now, in the fog, everything looked different. Like it was going to get him. James was a paranoid bastard, as we have learnt steadily through the last five and a half seasons. "Scary Jack Frost." he muttered. "Pah!" But even his "Pah!'ing wasn't helping much now.

At last, he reached the signalbox, and he sighed in relief. Getting to Lower Suddery meant that soon he'd be able to reach the Junction, and that in turn meant that he could take a short cut back to the sheds. He whistled to make sure that he was known. He glanced to one side.

Time seemed to stop as he laid his eyes on what appeared to be Snow Miser reincarnated into a tank engine form, and with the added benefit of looking and sounding like a demon. His jaw dropped.

"H-H-Hello...J-J-James!"

James reacted with calm and aplo-Ha! No, of course he didn't. "AAAAAAAARGH! SCARY JACK FROST HAS COME TO CLAIM MY SOUL! OH WHAT A WORLD, WHAT A HORRIBLE WORLD!? WHY COULDN'T IT HAVE BEEN HENRY TAKEN INSTEAD OF ME!? I DON'T WANNA GO, I DON'T WANNA GO, PLEASE, YOU GOT THE WRONG GUY,, THERE ARE PLENTY OF RED ENGINES ON THE ISLAND?! DON'T LISTEN TO THAT GUY WHO DID MIDDLE ENGINE, THAT WAS ALL A LIE! A LIE! AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

He didn't stop running until he got back to the shed.

Percy was very baffled about what had just happened. So baffled that he failed to notice that his lantern had been taken.

...

The next morning, Elizabeth brought Percy plenty of coal and another reason why he regretted staying overnight. Namely, having to interact with her for more than five seconds. "EH!? Oh my, you look like Jack Frost visited you! You look even worse than usual, you young piece of trash!"

"Hello to you too, Elizabeth." said Percy through frozen teeth.

Within seconds, the coal had been placed into the fire...and we'll leave aside why the coal magically turned into floorboards when the camera got inside Percy's cab. Carlin was clearly drunk again, and having stolen several of the boards from The Staggering Gentleman the other night, had not wanted them to go to waste. And this fire somehow melted all of the ice off. Even from his nose. Which was made of skin and not metal, so you tell me how that works.

I'll wait.

.

.

.

.

Not got an answer? Fair enough.

"So Scary Jack Frost...is only frost!" said Percy the Incredibly Slow On The Uptake Engine. Soon, he was as warm as toast. And as intelligent as toast. So he puffed on back to the sheds.

James was sitting on the turntable, spinning a yarn to all the engines about defeating the mythical Scary Jack Frost. It was impressive bullshittery even by the Island's admittedly high standards. "I saw him, lads! I saw him, and I did BATTLE WITH HIM! And by the end of it, he knew my name! He screamed it to the high heavens as I bested him in combat! "Please James!" he wheezed "Please no more!" in between bouts of bleeding and praising the ground I walked on! Ah yes, by the end of it, HE KNEW MY NAME."

"And that you ran away."

Percy's interjection caused all the engines to laugh. Even James.

Then Percy lunged at Thomas and started to beat the crap out of him for trying to trick him for the second time in so many weeks.

...

"Hello there!"

Duck looked up and beamed at Toby. "Mate, it's great to see you! Please, by all means, take a pew. I'm just heating up some soup, figured that since we're here, might as well warm ourselves up." As the tram slid his way into the goods shed, Duck looked around. "No Edward, yet?"

"No, we're assuming that he's taking a day off, what with the whole 'having his branch-line removed and being put back on shunting duty for the forseeable future' thing being a bit of a sore note." Toby paused. "Hope he's having a grand time, wherever he is."

...

ELSEWHERE, IN SHED WORLD.

"How the hell did I get up to Floor 21!? I haven't gone up any stairs! And it's only a five floor building from the outside!" Edward stared at the rows upon rows of sheds in horror. "AND HOW ARE THERE THIS MANY SHEDS IN THE WORLD?!"  
...

"He's probably having a ton of fun!" Duck agreed. He turned serious. "But, listen, we can do this without him. Any update on any of the things we've been examining?"

"Well...the Railway Board have been active. I mean, there are some stations that are getting closed out right, especially along the old branchlines. Elsbridge's been rebuilt for quite a while now, but it's still being closed down for some reason. Same goes for everything along the Wellsworth and Suddery branch save for Wellsworth itself. Most of the old Skarloey landmarks are being claimed as 'derelict' but there's not been any problem with them for years, even after all that hoohah with the Malevolence."

"So...not evil or worrying in and of itself, just questionable business decisions." Duck sighed. "Still, it's worth keeping an eye out. And on my end...nothing. At all. No contacts, no hints...I'd at least understand if I got a message stating that we weren't to talk anymore, at least it'd be SOMETHING!"

"That's gone past worrying and entering the realm of terrifying." Toby looked at Duck, curiously. "You're not telling me that, aside from that Jinty and Pug, you had no friends from your days as a spy?"

"No...friends, not as such. But there is one engineI do trust. The Duchess of Hamilton. She had a hand in my training, always pleasant to pass the time of day with. Perhaps if she'd been in charge, we'd have never...no, can't think like that. If I can talk to her and see where the land lies, perhaps that'll give us some idea of what's going on." Duck thought for a moment. "No update with regard to our Fake incident. Aside from the discovery of someone who appears to look quite a lot like Daisy in the pile of corpses from the Battle of Sodor, I've drawn a blank there."

Toby hesitated. "There is something else that's rather odd. But it's so minor I feel silly for mentioning it."

"Toby, history is built on the foundation of minor, odd things. The arrow that hit Harold Godwin in the eye, the split second decisions made by Scott of the Antarctic, the bomb that failed to kill Hitler...history is changed forever in such moments...what I'm basically saying is suck it up and tell me about it."

Toby shook a little, amused. "You have the voice of a poet, Duck."

"So it has been said."

"Well...there have been a recent spate of disappearing lanterns." Toby was aware that, had this been anyone else, he would have gotten a baffled glance at best and a slightly withering glare at worst. But this was Duck, who dealt with the odd on a regular basis, so he merely looked curious. "Yeah, there's times over the last few months where we've had lanterns put on, or they've been left on platforms...and they've just vanished from sight. There's no reason for the any of the personnel of the Island to be taking them. I'd be willing to put it down to a juvenile prank, but who would steal this many?!"

Duck thought for a moment. "I'll...add it to my to-do list, mate." He sighed. "Who wants a quiet life anyway?"


	17. Episode 17: Gordon Takes A Tumble

Hey guys, guess what time it is! That's right, it's time for the best crash of the season! Seriously, this episode's fun, but it's the crash that really sticks out in my mind. It's a really funny scene, and I hope that I do it justice.

Also, probably my favorite Edward vs the Sheds scene I've written thus far.

 **AaronCottrell97:** I'm really excited to be doing stuff with Edward in the next two seasons. For...reasons. Yeah, it's okay. I think my opinion of it comes across as being a bit negative, but that's only because it's an episode I've not had much experience with.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Nnnnnnnope! ...He's going to be pissed when he gets out.

 **Bronze Shield:** That's the Sodor way!

 **Game-Watch:** One day I shall tell it!

 **Radical sandwhiches:** Ha! Oh, don't worry, someone will be lording how rich they are over soon enough!

 **MattPrice01:** Ah, a Young Ones quote...actually, this is pretty much the Young Ones with trains, isn't it? And that's...an apt comparison, really!

 **trestonfortson2016:** Oh yeah. There's a reason for that, again. That one's a good one, I must admit!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

The following is an extract of an actual conversation that took place in Gullane Entertainment during the filming of season 6. For sake of privacy, all names have been removed.

Guys, I don't know if we've established Gordon as a big enough dick yet. Or at the very least, the audience has forgotten it!"

"Right. Yoink."

"Where are you going with that camera?"

"It's Gordon. It's not going to be hard to remind people that he's a dick."

...

It was not.

All right, to start things off properly, the Fat Controller's engines love being really useful. You think it's getting boring to hear over and over again? Try having to write it over and over again. Anyway, this makes them feel important. As in feeding their massively bloated egos that keep swelling back up no matter how many times you prick them.

And no one has quite such a bloated ego as Gordon. Well...James could challenge that claim, but Gordon can usually shout about it much louder.

One day, at the Docks (Because apparently EVERYTHING important happens at the Docks now), Salty rolled up to Gordon and Percy, saving Percy from a chat on yet another boring subject...namely, Gordon himself. Somehow, Salty had apparently mastered the art of cat-like tread, and made not a single sound as he rolled up. "AHOY AHOY AHOY!" said he.

"Watch. Out." growled Gordon, and Percy immediately began looking the other way so that he could have deniability. "You shall make my paintwork all sooty!"

"Sounding a little bit like James, there, aren't you?"

"Shut up, driver."

"Pulling trucks be a sooty job, me old mucker!" said Salty, in a quite unusual bit passive-aggressiveness on his part. "But then, of course, ye be completely new to that sort of thing!"

"NATURALLY." said Gordon, who didn't see that as an insult. He is an idiot. "Express engines, like me and...no, just like me, they do not pull trucks." He paused and muttered to the side "Except for all the times I have. Besides, it would not be dignified!"

Percy's brain was once again acting up. "Dignified!?" He stated, realizing in horror that this was what his life was going to be like from now on. "What does that mean?"

"SILLY!" said Gordon, adding to Percy's complex. "It means-"

"That someone be too big for their buffers, ain't that the truth, Polly?"

"MRAWK! GOLD DOUBLOONS!"

Gordon responded to this by using a thought provoking rebuke that left Salty and Percy shaking in their frames- I'm kidding of course, he used his favorite word ever ("PAH!" for those wondering) and then sulked off, convinced that he had bested them in a verbal joust.

He had not. In fact, the verbal joust hadn't even taken place, as one of the competitors had managed to choke on his own foot.

...

That night, the fog rolled in once again. Somehow, it appeared that the weather was once again deciding to throw up two fingers to the Island and just do whatever the hell it wanted. And as the fog took over the Island, the trains coming into the docks became trapped in a massive jam, leaving waiting lines of trucks with no owners. This caused confusion and delay, not the first or the last time that this would happen.

The Fat Controller stumbled around in the thick fog for a bit until he reached the area where some of the engines were waiting. "Edward's still not back yet?!" They shook their heads. "Hmm...wonder if I should go and look for him!"

...

INSIDE SHEDWORLD.

Edward was insanely cackling to himself as he spotted the checkout till. "AT LAST!" He began to half-sob, half-giggle, as he made his way forward. "AT LAST! FREEDOM!" He rushed towards the exit, the glass doors, towards the freedom that he had craved for so long-

And smacked his face right on them.

This was mighty confusing for Edward, who was aware that the doors generally opened automatically. He paused, and then turned back to the checkout, and to the slovenly youth who was operating it.

"Hello there, sir!" He said, with as genial an attitude as he could muster. "There appears to be something wrong with your door."

"Nothing wrong with it." said the teen, reading his magazine. He didn't comment on anything else afterwards, meaning that Edward had to cough and continue.

"Erm, I wish to leave this establishment? Please? I'd like to go home at some point?"

"Need to buy something first. Then the door opens."

"That is...a unusual business practice."

The teen shrugged. "Works for us."

Edward was about to begin the process of flipping out, when his eyes caught sight of a large squeaky rubber shed toy that was right besides the checkout. He had enough money to buy three sheds, he had enough for that. "Then, I'll take one of those, and then I'll go, if that is all right?"

The teenager looked up. He looked at Edward, then at the shed toy, then at the doors, and then at Edward again. "You thick or something? You have to buy something from the second floor up."

Edward was floored. "But...But...But that's just plain daft!"

"It's the Shedworld way." said the teen, and returned his attention to the magazine. And no amount of pleading or screaming or ranting or bartering could get him to answer Edward's rapidly shifting moods.

Edward shook with barely contained rage and misery, as he stormed back towards the second floor escalator. "THIS IS EVEN STUPIDER THAN USUAL!" He bellowed impotently.

...

Hatt shook himself. "Eh, he's probably having fun." He turned his attention to the matter at hand. "'Enry, Thomas and Percy, you must go to t'docks at once to do work!"

"Who is this 'Enry, you speak of?" asked Henry, in a sarcastic mood.

"Don't be so bloody minded!"

"Yes sir!" said the three engines, and they all moved off towards the general direction of the docks. No one would notice, of course, if they had a quick little drinky on the way.

The Fat Controller waited until they were all gone to turn his attention to the big blue elephant in the room who was standing near the Breakdown Train and still stewing over Salty's words. "You too, Gordon. I probably should have told you this along with the other three engines, but...yeah, I've got no reason. I'm just in that kind of mood today. I need a big engine to take the trucks where they need to go today!"

"Then why not use Henry?!" steamed Gordon furiously.

"Because knowing him he'd probably bugger it up and crash into something. Considering that there are some trucks that were going to go on the Flying Kipper earlier, I don't want to take chances. So...jog off."

"TRUCKS!" shouted Gordon as he puffed away. He couldn't believe it!

For...some reason.

...

Gordon was, to put it mildly, not happy that he had to pull the trucks. He waited impatiently as they were shunted into place. "HURRY THE HELL UP, YOU SLOW IDIOT!"

"Why the rush, Gordon?" asked Thomas, knowing full well what the rush was, and not caring.

"If I must pull trucks, once again, then I shall show that brine soaked, grog drinking Salty how an express engine pulls trucks! That is to say, BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE!"

"Ohhhhhh, careful there, me lubber! Ye don't want to get too big fer yer buffers!"

But Gordon was already starting off with a long line of freight, pausing only to shout a loud "LATER PISS-ANTS!" back at the remaining engines. Unsurprisingly, the rest of the work got done a lot quicker with him out of the way.

Elsewhere, Cyril the Fogman was up at night. He is the reason that crime never sleeps, it is only because if they do fall asleep, they have nightmares of Cyril the Fogman! He watched and waited.

...

"So, Percy, are you...okay?"

Percy shrugged noncomittedly, and James sighed. He hated doing this. This whole 'trying to be a good friend' thing that everyone insisted on him trying to do. It was harder than it looked, restraining his somewhat blunt honesty and over the top mannerisms to act as a reliable (Stop sniggering you in the back, he's trying!) friend to Percy. "Okay...um...anything I can help you with?"

Percy gave him a look. "...Really. You? Help me?"

"Look, you spent all of last night depressed. That worries me, and as your...fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff-"

"Um, James?"

"-fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff-"

"James? Hello?"

"-fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff-"

"...Are you trying to say 'friend' there?"

"That word, yes. As your...ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffriiiiiendddd, I want you to be ultimately an okay little annoying troglodite, instead of a...depressed one."

"Touching as that is...it's my head. I've been mixing up words left and right and it's been getting to me a little bit."

James hesitated. This was...legitimately serious. He didn't know how to do serious. "So, um, have you been to the Works? There's...got to be some kind of pill or something, they're all over the place now."

"Yeah."

James sighed. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"..."

"...Ah. Fine. But if they give you a lollipop afterwards, you're giving it to me.

...

As morning broke, Gordon was still rattling along the main line at full speed. His slow goods wasn't exactly slow. "Now this is how you pull trucks!" He said. Once again, his talking to himself did not lend credence to his argument that he was, in fact, completely sane and didn't need a psych evaluation no sirree. As per usual, then there was trouble.

The signalman, who happened to be named Norris, accidentally had left the points set for the previous train. In this case, it would lead any train onto the old Peel Godred route that hadn't been used since the time of the First World War. Gordon, of course, didn't see anything wrong as he thundered on. T _hat's strange,_ he thought, _I'm on the branch-line. Oh well. WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG?_

For the record, the word 'Gordon' in ancient Sudrian roughly translates into 'idiot'. In retrospect, it was a poor yet apt choice of name.

"AH SHIT! Express engines aren't supposed to go that way! ...Ah well, maybe it will all sort itself out." said the signalman, already preparing to change his name. It was too late to do anything else, as Gordon had already rocketed into the distance.

The old branch line was weak and rusty. Which raises the question as to why it was that points were even set onto that line in the first place, but whatever. There were signs warning all the train to go slow. But, well, signs work about as well on the Island of Sodor as diets do on the Fat Controller. Gordon saw it, and took it to be a red flag to his bull. "I'M AN EXPRESS ENGINE! AND THE BEST! I DON'T GO SLOW! MWAHAHAHAHA! I am a genius!"

He was not.

As he went even faster round the bend, the branch-line couldn't take it any more, the rails buckled, and...well...you can guess what happened next.

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH crap!" Gordon shouted as he shot off the rails like a cork from a champagne bottle. Luckily, the guard and both of his crew leapt clear as his train went into immediate disarray.

Gordon, meanwhile, was still going. He raced forwards towards a large open field. "HI BUTCH!" He had time to scream, before he plowed straight through a large mound of soil. "BYE BUTCH!" Butch was none the wiser as to what the hell had happened, for Gordon was gone before he had chance to even understand what had happened. Next, he slid into a sort of shed, whereupon a large pile of tires just so happened to be there. "OHHHHHHH THAT'S NOT GOOD!"

One tire in the mouth later, Gordon rushed on through.

...

"What are we going to do with all these cream pies, Bozo?"

Gordon plunged through the clown car, smashing cream pies all over his face. The clowns watched as he rambled on through at top speed, in bafflement. They turned to gaze at the car.

"Never mind, Bozo. I think it's been taken care of."

...

"Easy...easy...eas-"

There was a loud crash, and the Glass Pane Association watched in abstract horror as a big blue engine shattered the glass pane completely. It was so cliched, and yet the form of the cliche had never been so odd.

...

The mine defusal expert was baffled. He hadn't been sure why it had taken so long for his team to come over here and sort out the large collection of mines left here after World War Two, but they had arrived anyway. They hadn't expected them to be set off by what appeared to be a rampaging blue elephant covered in cream, soil and bits of broken glass, and with a tire stuck in it's mouth.

No one so many people came from Sodor to join him, if this was a daily day in the life of a Sudrian.

...

Gordon hit the barn door at a rapidly slowing, but still quite fast speed. His eyes were now firmly shut, and he bit down on the tire as he slammed through the other side, coming to a ungraceful stop in front of a very cheerful looking scarecrow.

"Awa-wa?" He managed to get out. No one was hurt...well, no one innocent, but Gordon was left feeling very undignified. And in pain. "What the Fat Controller gonna say?" He said in broken English.

The scarecrow offered no answer.

But Gordon found out what 'The Fat Controller gonna say' soon enough, as his tender was recovered from the soil, and Butch awkwardly began to set up towing him back onto the rails. "Well Gordon, you wanted to show Salty a thing or two, and you certainly did. You showed him what a massive prat you are if you ignore frigging go slow signs!"

"Sorry sir." mumbled Gordon through a mouthful of cream, glass, soil, wood and tire.

...

"So, how is Percy?"

"Oh, doing better than you would have thought." James looked proud. He had done a good thing on this day. He was sure this made up for all the bad things he had done over the past...decades? "Apparently the doctor's got him on some new type of pill. I mean, it's only a temporary solution, and the Works Diesel would have come up with something better, probably...but it is what it is."

"Hmm...really should get a more permanent and workable replacement for Crovan's Ga-Oh, look who it is!" Thomas crowed. It wasn't long after the crash and Gordon was back working at the docks. He snuck in as quietly as he could, face red with embarassment. Thomas decided to throw him a bone. "Come on, Lazybones! Everyone makes mistakes sometimes! ...Not as regularly from you, to be sure, but still. Even you...what am I saying, especially you!"

"Salty's sorry he teased ya!" said James. That was a lie. Salty wasn't, but he was feeling charitable today.

"And I am SORRY that I was such a big bossy boiler!"

And all the engines laughed, even Gordon.

Who promptly forgot the moral. Again.

You will notice a running trend with this particular blue engine.


	18. Episode 18: Percy's Chocolate Crunch

This is probably my favorite of the Percy centric episodes this season. And I'm aware that this is mostly a goofy story, but to be honest, that's kind of what I like about it. Also, the end temporarily of the trapped in Shed-World story.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Agreed, really wish that they'd do more of those!

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Poor Edward is probably going to get thrown around a lot in this chapter. And yeah, I like to give James some redeeming little moments to offset the whole 'being a dick' thing.

 **Bronze Shield:** Catharsis is the term I'd use.

 **Game-Watch:** Hmmm...an interesting statement. Keep that in mind for the foreseeable future.

 **Radical sandwhiches:** **Don't count on it happening all that often!**

 **MattPrice01:** I'm thinking Ade Edmondsun as Thomas, Nigel Planer as Henry, Rik Mayall as Gordon and Christopher Ryan as Edward. ...Or something like that. XD.

 **UGX7:** One of the funnest things I've written, in all honesty.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

"Sir, you can't take that."

Edward stared at the guard in with a dull bafflement. Emotions had become something of a foreign concept to him at the moment, so he wasn't quite sure how to register just how much he wanted to kill every sentient thing in this weirdly large shop. "Why not?"

"It's a shed."

"Yes?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...

"..."

"This...is Shed World, right? Your tagline is literally 'We Only Sell Sheds. ONLY. SHEDS'. But I can't buy this one?"

"Yes."

"...Why?"

"Cause."

"...Did Gordon pay you to make my life a living hell?"

"Sir, give me back the shed-"

"YOU'LL HAVE TO CATCH ME FIRST, SUCKER!"

...

"Hello Oliver!"

"I'm still waiting for my episode, James!"

"Keep on waiting, chum!"

"FU-"

The Fat Controller's engines love to be shiny and clean. Because if you saw what's inside a steam engine's boiler at times, you would be obsessed with cleanliness at all costs too. It makes them feel cheerful as they puff across the Island. Please ignore this stock footage of Edward passing Henry on the viaduct, as he is still missing. We're beginning to get concerned.

Percy often has the dirtiest work to do. This is because the Fat Controller regrets his investment in him. And also because he likes giving Percy even more emotional trauma by forcing him to work next to the tipper where he almost died. Thanks Fatty! This,, understandably, has left him with the desire to be clean, just like any other engine. So a washdown a day is important to Percy.

Unfortunately, he is repeatedly tricked into thinking that the sun hasn't come up yet by the other engines, and thus is late to get hosed down by the rather disgruntled workmen who applied solely for this job to hose down hot, beautiful women.

Living the dream, they are.

On this day in particular, the Fat Controller had bad news. "DUE TO THE-"

"Turn it down a bit, sir."

"NO! I'M FED UP!"

"Hi Fed Up." said four very easily amused engines.

"...I will scrap all of you one day. DUE TO A WATER SHORTAGE, there shall only be one washdown a day for engines! ...Don't ask where all the water's going. USEFULNESS BEFORE CLEANLINESS!"

"I swear that was one of Ingsoc's ideals." murmured Thomas. "Big Brother has a top hat apparently!"

"Well that just sucks!" snapped Percy. "What the hell is even causing this?! We live on an Island! We're surrounded by the stuff!"

"It's a mystery, Perce." said Carlin, lying through it his teeth. It wasn't a mystery to him.

...

ELSEWHERE, AT THE DRIVER'S COMMON ROOM.

"How's that Jacuzzi coming on, Charlie!?"

"Looking good, Sid! Got to thank Carlin for getting us all this free water! ...Wonder how he did it?"

...

Carlin shook himself from his half-guilty remembrance and listened to Percy rant. "IT'S NOT FAIR! I get dirty all the time, and I need the washdowns! And Gordon only does it so that he can make sure his superiority complex is abated every night!"

"You said a mouthful!" snarled Gordon, right next to him. In retrospect, mouthing off against the big blue engine would have been better done behind someone like James or Thomas. "I am important! Didn't you see the last episode!? I AM AN EXPRESS ENGINE!"

"I think you're missing the moral of the last episode as well." murmured Thomas.

"You're a pouty puffer, Percy!" mocked James. He was fond of teasing the little green engine on occasion. Plus, it evened out the nice attitude he had had the week prior to this.

"I AM NOT! ...Whatever that means!" snapped Percy, as he chuffed away.

...

Once again, he was back down by the docks to do even more work. Oh, how happy he was. That was sarcasm, by the way, in case you couldn't tell. As he shifted around, shunting the trucks, he decided to try extra hard to stay clean.

In retrospect, he would have done better to just not think it at all. For thinking about that drew the attention of Karma, who proceeded to notch a rather nasty arrow into the bow, just for the little green engine.

But before she could fire, the trucks (Who were being even bigger pricks than usual) jerked forward as he reached the coaling plant. "ON ON ON!" They shrieked. Percy wondered if they'd consider switching their chant up a little bit, considering how boring it was getting by now.

His thought process was interrupted by a not-unusual sensation of coal bucketing down and hitting him repeatedly all over his body. "Oh well, this is just going to be a great day!" He said, in between fits of desperate coughing. "AND NOW I'M FILTHY!"

"Not as filthy as Carlin." muttered the fireman. Carlin gave him a glare, and resolved privately to have a bath later on. He hadn't had one recently because of all the beer he had been drinking. His priorities were good ones.

As Percy carried on throughout the day, the universe apparently was delighting in getting to make him as mucky as possible. The Pack threw soil at him, believing him to be a devil of some sort, a whole barrel of gunpowder went off in his face...it was not his day, to be frank. And as he carried along, the trucks began to sing and mock Percy once more.

"Clickety clack, don't look back, Dirty Percy's on our track!"

As per usual, it was a terrible song that somehow managed to rile Percy up something fierce. "SHADDUP!" He bellowed.

As Percy stormed into Callan Yards, he was in a foul temper. "I AM IN A FOUL TEMPER!" He shouted to all around him. Worse still, he happened to catch sight of Harold, who was sitting right besides him being his usual...Haroldy self.

"FROM NOW ON-" said Percy, painting a massive target on his back, front and all in-between to all listening "-I SHALL ONLY DO WORK WHERE I WON'T GET DIRTY! YOU HEAR ME WORLD?! THIS CATERPILLAR'S STAYING CLEAN!"

Harold was picking up medical supplies as Percy said this. "Hello Percy! Right on, old chap!"

And then he lifted off right next to a huge pile of cinders and ashes. You can guess what happened next.

Once the fire on Percy's face had been put out, and he was able to speak again without occasionally coughing out huge clouds of smog, Percy raged at the helicopter impotently. He wasn't entirely sure that Harold hadn't done that just to spite him. And to be honest, can you blame him at this point? "NOT AGAIN! SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT! I WANNA WASHDOWN, I WANNA I WANNA I WANNA WANNA WANNA!"

"Calm yourself the f**k down." said Carlin, bluntly. "Usefulness before Cleanliness, as the Big Hatt says. He's always watching, you know."

"Ha ha. I want to useful, AND clean."

"Oh well, there's some trucks of sugar going to the Chocolate Factory that we 'apparently' have now for some unknown and unexplained reason. Who the hell is Mr Jolly anyway? I've never even met him before! And I've met everyone"

"SUGAR IS CLEAN."

"Yes Percy. Yes. Good boy. You get a treat."

And so they set off, Percy humming Pure Imagination somewhat out of tune. He was not to know that earlier on in the day, a truck had spilled oil all over the tracks. He hadn't been properly house trained, and it had been greatly embarrassing to Oliver to learn this. As Percy approached the chocolate factory (Unfortunately located next to a rather large hill) Carlin applied the brakes.

As per usual, it did absolutely f**K all.

"OHHHHHHHHHHH NO."

Percy smashed through the walls of the chocolate factory. Loud explosions could be seen from the outside, as window after window exploded with...apparently flammable chocolate being the cause. People screamed inside and ran for their life, some of them getting encased in chocolate and having to be broken out of their delicious prison in time.

At last, Percy crashed through the other side. "YUCK!" He shouted, once he had spat out most of the glass. "Never been this dirty before! EVER!" He was covered from funnel to firebox in sticky, gooey, chocolate! "WHERE IS THE OWNER OF THIS PLACE!? I want to rant to him about putting buffers into place!"

Carlin was pale. "Um...I think he's kind of...underneath your wheels at the moment."

"Oh...well that's not good."

...

Back at the sheds, as Duck sympathetically pushed Percy onto the turntable, the other engines began to laugh and laugh and laugh.

"You look good enough to eat!" laughed Thomas. "Ha! I am so witty!"

"Pudding Percy!"

"That one's not even a real joke, James."

"Screw you, it is if I say it!"

"Choc Ice On Wheels! Yummy!" Henry smirked.

"DISGRACEFUL! You'd never catch me making a fool of myself going off rails like that!" Gordon enjoyed denial. It was a great way to spend a day.

"AHEM AHEM AHEM."

Guess who it was.

No, it wasn't Superted...why would you even think that? "You've had a real trying day, haven't you?"

"YES SIR!" wailed Percy, who was feeling very sorry for himself. Especially seeing as Carlin was busy licking the chocolate off his side.

"Well, seeing as we've all agreed that Mr Jolly was an asshole and it was an accident, and also because last time you were on a flatbed you popped off at me, I'm proud to say you've shown us what comes of putting usefulness before cleanliness. You shall have your wash-down. And that rule about one a day is over because it was kind o stupid. To hell with the water supply! And a new coat of paint!"

"OH SIR!" Percy beamed.

"AH SHIT!" said the other engines.

At which point, there was a loud explosion from the rough area of Shedworld, and Edward came rushing up, half crazed, with a large metal shed on his back. "I AM FREEEEEEEEEEEE!" He screamed. The other engines screamed too, but for entirely different reasons. "GORDON! I HAVE FOUND YOU A NON-WOOD SHED!"

"Oh get with the times, Edward. Sheds are so last month."

Edward had never looked closer to tears than he had at that moment.

...

16/04/01: File 29182

Regarding the status of the subjects requested last time, we might be in luck.

TARGETS are in a variety of moods. Number Six is growing worse with regards to his head wound. This has concerned Number Seven and, though he may not admit it outright, Number Five. This has therefore taken their attention away from the real problem at stake, which is the growing discontent that is the relationship between Number Two and Number Four.

With regards to the others:

Number Three has not yet chosen a side in the rapidly escalating arguments between the aforementioned Two and Four. Analysis suggests that, at a pinch, he would join Four, but in general, his actions seem to indicate a desire to stay out of the argument. This works to our advantage in many ways.

Of Number Seven, we have been able to ascertain very little. This in and of itself is interesting, though. We have had no shortage of information on the others, in some cases too much, but we're drawing a blank when it comes to him.

Number Eight needs to be eliminated. As do Nine and Ten. Possibly Eleven as well. At maximum, three years, we need to move operations over there.

 **J.D**


	19. Episode 19: Buffer Bother

Ah...this episode exists...I don't know how to feel about this episode. Bill and Ben are fun, but the episodes that focused on them post-movie and pre-Andrew Brenner never really connected with me. Feel free to disagree, that's fine. It's still good, but it doesn't really have anything to make it really stand out. Even the one change (Ben's buffers) doesn't stick with their next appearance.

On a more cheerful note, I have begun work on one of the stories I mentioned a while back showing one of the universes from Magic Railroad. Chances are I'll probably release it on Tales of the Abridgement, so look out for that when it comes out!

One last thing: The Jack and the Pack spin-off will be covered in this fanfic, after Season 6. Why? Because I want to have a direct run from Season 7 to Season 8, and that's the only other place I could reasonably put them. Hope that's fine with you!

 **Guest:** You're not the only one.

 **AaronCottrell97:** I CAN CONFIRM OR DENY NOTHING. Heh. I am cruel, aren't I?

 **Reality Rejection Service** : That it would. But, for those Not-Gordon fans out there, there will be a reckoning coming.

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** Thanks!

 **Bronze Shield:** This and Season 7 really went all out with crashes. It's a lot of fun to write.

 **Game-Watch:** I'm surprised no one comments on that more.

 **MattPrice01:** I'm really glad that I got to cheer you up! I hope things get better with your friend. You keep that inquisitive face of yours on...you won't have long to wait.

 **UGX7:** Most of those errors were fixed! Again, apologies. Some episodes you just want to be done with, you know? It'll take a while for there to be some sort of reckoning with all of this, but it is coming. The end will be explained by the final episode of the season.

 **Hughie96:** ...Welllllll, can't say anything just yet, can I? XD

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

All right what's on the schedule for today- OH SHIT IT'S THE BILL AND BEN EPISODE.

Yes. It's that time of the season again, where we basically shove all the characters that you actually care about into the background and focus on these two hobgoblins in engine form. Bill and Ben are, in case you have been living in a cave for most of your life, quarry engines and pieces of human excrement given life. They are also twins. I guess because our audience SOLELY consists of blind goldfish now. YOU HEAR THAT EVERYONE! Y'ALL ARE A BUNCH OF BLIND GOLDFISH!

...Sorry. Got a little...American, there.

They play together, they shunt trucks together and get up to naughty tricks together. It is, quite honestly, getting really old by this point. So old that Mavis is beginning to wonder if she shouldn't do a BoCo and get herself killed just to get an easy day. Wherever you find Bill, you'll find Ben. Wherever you find Ben, you'll find Bill. And whenever you find water, you will get wet. All of these things are true.

One day, in December, the Fat Controller came to inspect the quarry engines. Mavis and Bill were in fine working order, apart from the many nerouses that Mavis had picked up from having to live at the quarry in that time.

"Unfortunately for you, Ben, YOUR TIME IS UP!"

"HOORAY!" said everyone on the Island not named Bill or Ben.

"Your buffers are damaged, you must go to the works and have them mended properly!"

"Harroo." said everyone on the Island not named Bill or Ben.

"Mavis, you're going to have to work with Bill until Ben gets better."

"Yes...Yes sir!" sobbed Mavis, smiling on the outside and screaming on the inside. And the Fat Controller drove away, as Toby entered the yard to provide moral support for the rather stressed out diesel.

"I am going to get new buffers! So...nah-nah-nah-na!"

"Oh piss off!" snapped Bill, hurt that he wasn't getting special buffers instead. Mavis mentally wondered if Kelly was onto something with this 'killing yourself' lark. "I SHOULD GET NEW BUFFERS TOO! WAAAAAH!" At which point, Bill began whining and crying like a rather spoilt brat, and yet another thread of Mavis's sanity was yanked away from the tapestry that was her mind. "WE ARE TWINS! We do everything together! Didn't you hear what the narrator was saying only seconds ago!?"

"But you don't need new buffers! So there!"

"You're only getting those bloody buffers because you're such a careless sod! I saw the way that you left that gunpowder out just for kicks!"

"AM NOT!"

"Are too!"

"AM NOT!"

"Are too!"

"Will the two of you shut the hell! Stop being such grouchy crabby prats! Bill, we've got work to do, and the less time I have to spend with you, the better!" And off Mavis stormed, Bill following in a disgruntled manner. Ben couldn't wait.

As Ben passed by, Bill watched with growing envy. As in, he was literally turning green. No one was aware that that was an actual thing that happened. At which point, he threw up after the long boozer he had been on the night before. That made a little bit more sense.

As he returned to work, and after the crew had mopped up the mess, all he could think about was Ben's beaming buffers. This was becoming incredibly ridiculous, even by the twins standards. He was so busy thinking on this, that he promptly rang smack bang into a wall with a single truck. "OOOOOH...why'd you put buffers _here_ of all places?!"

The foreman offered no explanation at all. As Bill waited, a pipe that had been resting on the roof slid down and smacked Bill right in the funnel. "Well this is just rid-rid-aaaaaaaaaah...aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah...choooooooooooooooo!"

The pipe flew into the air. A few minutes later, Edward let out a loud "OW!" as it hit him on the head. This did not improve his mood.

"Be careful!" snapped Mavis, currently looking into Buddhism to calm herself down. "And stop thinking about Ben's buffers!"

"I wasn't until you just brought it up! OHHHHHH THAT BEN! HE'S A BASTARD!"

Bill did try that day. He thought about birds. And trees. And anything else. But usually that lead him back to the same thought. Namely that smug grinning bastard that was Ben.

...

"I want new buffers too!" said Bill, after throwing himself angrily at a bunch of rather bored trucks.

"You've been so subtle about it, how on earth did you expect me to guess that, oh woe oh woe, how could I have too deaf to your lamentations and your issues with all things buffer related."

"...Was that sarcasm, Mavis?"

"Nah. It was just me stating the facts...yes, it was sarcasm. Just be glad you're in good working order!"

"I DON'T CARE, YOU'RE WRONG AND I'M RIGHT, IT'S NOT FAIR!"

One wheesh later, Mavis spat quarry dust and soot out of her mouth and glared at the small tank engine. "Bill." she said, preparing for a rather long rage.

"Oops?"

Even after Mavis went off on a massive rant about how stupid Bill was being, he was still struggling to forget his desire. The Troublesome Trucks wouldn't let him do so. "Poor, poor Bill, he works and suffers, while his jackass bro Ben gets brand new buffers!"

"I think they're losing their touch." said Mavis.

"SCREW YOU!" snapped Bill.

"On the other hand..."

"I MAY NOT HAVE BRAND NEW BUFFERS, BUT AT THE VERY LEAST...A: I AM NOT A BASTARD LIKE BEN. AND B, I KNOW HOW TO BIFF A TRUCK!" And he raced backwards. Mavis, who had heard from Duck what happened to Donald a few weeks ago, could see history repeating itself.

"No, stop, come back."

One loud crash later, Bill had landed awkwardly at the bottom of a slope. "Well, who could have seen this coming?"

"I could have." Mavis said dryly. "Now, let me just get you help. Therapy would be a good place to start, I reckon." She paused. "Oh, wait, it's the bastard...er, Ben. To the rescue."

"BUST MY BUFFERS!"

"I think you have! ...Mavis, do you get the joke? Because he was whining about his buffers!"

"I got it, Ben."

"And...And we say Bust our Buffers a lot!"

"I understand the joke, Ben."

"AND I'VE GOT NEW BUFFERS-"

"Yep."

"...So, why aren't you laughing?"

"Oh. You know. Ton of reasons. Get him out of there quick."

...

Unsurprisingly, when the Fat Controller arrived and saw the state of Bill's buffers, he was not happy." DISHGRACEFUL!" He said, slurring his words once more. "YOU 'AVE BEHAVED BADLY! DO YOU 'AVE ANYTHING TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!?"

"It...was worth it?"

"Try again!"

"I'm sorry sir."

"Before I give you what you want in new buffers, I want you to think about what it means to be a responsible and reliable engine! Since being Really Useful is too late for you, apparently!"

"Yes sir."

After the Fat Controller had stormed off in a sulk, Ben rolled up to Bill with his new buffers gleaming.

"Nice."

"Thanks...I've been told to say that I'm sorry I teased you."

"Yeah. And I've been told to say that I was naughty too!"

"Of course you were! We're twins!"

"AHAHAHAHAHA what does that have to do with anything, I ask you?"

Elsewhere, Toby and Mavis watched as the two of them got into an argument (An argument that ended with Ben loosing said nice clean buffers) and looked knowingly at each other."Was I ever that bad?"

Toby smirked. "No, of course not."

"Ah, that's good to know."

"If you can believe it, you were worse."

"Oh shut up, you fusspot!"

"Back at you, you idiot!"

"..."

"...

"It's been too long, hasn't it?"

"We must do this more often."

...

"You okay?"

"Just...just dandy. I'm fine." Edward was not looking fine, in Duck's opinion. And not just because of the large bruise from a random pipe falling from the sky that covered his forehead, either. But he figured that saying that out loud would set the blue engine off something fierce, so he didn't remark on that. "I'm not entirely sure why it is you've brought me along with you."

"...Last time I came here, I supposedly got my mind completely zapped of the events of up to a week. That was with someone who didn't know what he was doing. You, on the other hand, are far cleverer than he. Hopefully you can give me a nudge if something like that is tried. And also because work is the best antidote to sorrow, and all that."

"Snow's falling." remarked Edward, as they waited in the yard.

"Indeed. And it's actually December. At last. Hopefully we won't get snow for a fair bit now." There was a pause, and then Duck decided to broach a rather delicate subject. "You know...Gordon does care about you."

"Does he?" Edward sounded bored. Listless.

"Yes. He doesn't do the best job...or any job, of showing it, but I think he does."

"You should have been here in the 50's. I once tried flirting with this one engine, just to see if I could. And it was going well. Yoink. Gordon scoots in and gets her dancing with him before I can even broach the topic. And he made me pay for their drinks."

"Ouch."

"Yep. And then there was that time that he put my name down on a contract he signed for merchandise. I had to pay that particular company well over a hundred pounds just to be released from said contract! ...And that one time he decided to tape over all the recorded episodes of 24 that I had on me just so that he could get in more of his ridiculous training videos."

"Thank god Oliver's kept a back up stash of that. On the edge of- Hello...there she is."

As she entered, Duck marveled at the Duchess's gleaming coat of paint, her rather stoic expression...and then he looked at the bags under her eyes, the clear sign of exhaustion in the way she moved and the way her lips appeared to occasionally twitch. "She's...changed." He murmured.

"People do that, Duck. And engines, too."

"...Montague. It is...interesting, to see you again."

"Duchess. I'd like some answers."

She paused, looked at Edward (Who stared right back at her, as politely as he could in the circumstances) and sighed. "I shall do what I can."


	20. Episode 20: Toby Had A Little Lamb

This story is a good one. I like the fact that Toby gets a moment to shine, and not in a way that makes him look weak. I think it's the last great Toby episode for quite a bit, and I hope I've shown that. This also contains one of my favorite lines that I've written in either Volume thus far. I think you'll recognize it when you see it.

Thank god that this is the last winter episode of the season. This way, I can officially move the story along and not have to worry about things like time and such. Yet, anyway.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yeah, most of the Bill and Ben episodes aren't my favorite. And Mavis definitely needs help.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : That they are!

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:**

 **Bronze Shield:** Hopefully you enjoy it! Put a lot of work into it.

 **Game-Watch:** There are some questions that are not meant to be answered...this is one of them.

 **MattPrice01:** There will be more, I just need to find a place to put them! They're on their way!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Pretty much!

 **JD145** **:** Oh no! MY CHARACTER HAS COME TO LIFE! What have I created!?

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

Finally, winter had come. It was, unsurprisingly for winter on the Island of Sodor, windy and cold. And when it got like this, the engines who are unlucky enough to have to go out and work can't wait to get back to the snugness and warmth of Tidmouth Sheds.

Then they're put next to Gordon, and that all changes.

One such engine was Toby, whom had been diverted onto the old tramway to deliver some passengers to the newly reopened stations there. "Bitter cold. bitter cold, bitter cold!" He chuffed. Or possibly "BIT OF COAL! BIT OF COAL! BIT OF COAL!" as he was hungry something fierce. Either one is a reasonable assumption to make. Pick your own. Can't tell you everything! You're not sheep.

Sorry, where was I? Got off track for a moment there.

Toby was stewing angrily over Gordon's sarcasm the previous night. It had been bad, even by Gordon's standards. The usual insults about being as flat as cardboard, having no real purpose being with the other engines, bringing nothing new to the table, just reworded slightly more scornfully. Then he had had the nerve to call him a 'token' figure.

So Toby was not in a good mood. Neither, for that matter, was Henrietta. She had had to listen to Toby's grinding teeth all day, and she was now completely on edge. It was a good thing Gordon wasn't there in front of them, because she would have most likely killed him instantly.

"Still-" said the tram, trying to summon some good cheer "-I'll be back in my nice warm shed soon! ...And then all I'll have to deal with is the mocking of that big blue oaf! ...Every cloud is silver-lined, even when it rains. So don't get too downhearted, as things are bound to change! All you've gotta do is wear a smile and you will find... Your sun will- SHIT!"

His driver slammed on the brakes as they both spotted the figure of a farmer, knee deep in snow and waving a red flag. Toby wished he had picked up those semaphore lessons, it might have saved a hell of a lot of time.

It was Farmer McColl, a red headed farmer with a mustache to be proud of. It was the only thing that he could, reasonably, actually be proud of. His farm was terribly run, he was completely cut off from most people usually and he tended to rack up quite the charge sheet with the very erratic driving he tended to do while riding his tractor.

"Uz phonelines are daahn! orl t' roads are blocked, 'n those nasty sheep o' mine av picked naw o' orl t' bloody times ta start lambin! 'n dis is why we should av 'ed 'em neutered!"

And to answer your question, no, you are not having a stroke.

"I...I'm sorry, what was that?" asked the driver, who didn't speak Yorkshire very well. Toby himself was wondering why it appeared that McColl was auditioning for a part in some spin-off of Our Friends in the North. The fireman could, however, and translated accordingly.

"Cos they're orl lazy buggers, they're trapped ont' 'illside 'n they're cut off by t' snow! Lazy so 'n so's!"

"What can we do to help?" asked Toby, once the inevitable translation came.

"Ah need eur vet as sharp as possible! alsoa, someone ta 'elp uz shift orl t' illicit drugs art o' t' way!"

"We'll go to the next station...and get at least one of those things." His driver frowned. "Hang on, there's a signalbox not far from here! RIDE LIKE THE WIND, TOBY!"

"You are not the Lone Ranger or Sheriff Woody, mate."

The driver explained all to the signalman, who allowed him to phone ahead to the station.

...

The Fat Controller and the vet were waiting for Toby as he arrived at Callan Station. The vet had just been there by pure chance, as he was surprised when Toby explained in a hurry. "The farmer's sheep are going into labor-"

"Why, I thought they voted Conservative!"

This shit joke was brought to you by the Token Political Joke Association. We hope you enjoyed this random segway.

"...Right...and we need to help them! PRONTO!"

"Why, is he up there too?!"

Toby closed his eyes and counted to ten, very, very slowly. He tried to get rid of the feeling that he was an Island of sanity in a sea of lunacy and focused solely on the task at hand. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. "Sir-"

"I get it, I get it. I'll get on it now, we're sending Duck up to the farm to take care of it. This is a job for an engine with a snow plow and a lot of youth and vigor. You don't even have one of those things, Toby, so stay back here until we get confirmation.

Toby knew that Duck was the right engine for the job. He was powerful, and smart. But he still couldn't escape the desire to give the Fat Controller a real piece of his mind. He couldn't take any more of the insults today, he just couldn't. "Hurry!"

So much snow had fallen that the tracks ahead were now blocked, and as Duck puffed along, he hit more and more bumps. Getting out of the cab was not an option for either of his crew, the snow was blowing so fiercely at this point. "We can't go on! We have to go back!" said his driver.

Duck sighed, and wondered if he had packed the normal version of Watership Down, or the 'Oliver' version.

He prayed it was the former.

As he returned back to the station, Duck noticed that Toby was surprised to see him. Glumly, he admitted "I tried my hardest. I...gave it a push. And it was really, really hard. Honest. But...nothing. Weather's getting worse."

"The snow's too thick up there for us to get through, even with Duck's snow-plow." agreed the driver.

"Then the sheep are going to die!" said the Fat Controller blithely. "Oh well, we tried our best, let's go home everyone!" But just as he was about to leave, Toby had an idea.

"Wait, wait, hold your balls, sir. My old line may be rickety, but it's got a way to get to the farms in a lot shorter time. Remember?"

"Wait, hold up, that's far too dangerous! I was there, remember, on your line for a bit. Even with all the work we've been doing, Duck's a fat slob! It would cave under his weight before he even got a quarter of the way there!"

"Oh, thanks for the vote of confidence, sir!" Duck snapped.

"It might take my weight...and Henrietta's! I know the old way like the back of my buffers, and I'm pretty sure that it'll get me there quicker. It's the only chance to help the newborn lambs."

"Why do you care so much?"

"...It's what I do, sir."

"Be extremely careful. Good luck."

Duck whistled goodbye as Toby set off for the tramway once more. And soon, the blizzard howled so much that any sign of civilization (Or whatever passed for it here on Sodor) had vanished. The driver was worried, but Toby was grimly determined. "I can do it!" He puffed, trying to ignore the familiar pain in his chassis. "As long as these rails hold...I feel like I'm forgetting something."

He had.

Up ahead was the old iron bridge, a bridge that had been constructed by a madman whom had been drunk at the time and had therefore not thought anything through in the slightest. As he rounded the bend just before the bridge, Toby began to feel what passed for his chest tighten. He groaned. He had had these twinges since 1998, during the filming of Season 5. There had been a ton of explanations, a huge anxiety complex hidden under the surface, something wrong with the way he was built...personally, he just thought that he was allergic to deathly situations.

But still he pressed on. He tried not to wince as every part of his chassis began to tighten together like a crashed car. He tried to ignore Henrietta's little screams, they weren't going to help. "Oh...help, loosing control! Driver!"

"Doing it!" The driver was trying his best to regain his foothold on Toby, and the fireman was currently huddled in the corner of his cab, praying to any God that would listen.

"Got to keep moving! Got to keep moving! I'm needed! Ha! I'd like to see Gordon do this! That's it, that's it, oh, Henrietta, we're doing wonderfully-"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"That's the spirit, m'dear!"

...

McColl was waiting anxiously, not for the first time wondering if he had made the wrong choice trusting that shed that had appeared to sprout wheels. He wasn't entirely sure that his entire conversation hadn't been to a hallucination. This was not helped by the fact that Toby's headlamp was glowing brightly like a one eyed demon.

"Here we come to save the day!" sang Toby. The vet got out, stumbled into a bank of snow and threw up, before rushing in the direction of the sheep.

"You made it! Well, you tuk thy tahhm. ah well, wha' a brev engine you are!"

"Ta...I think?"

Soon the vet returned. "Well, all things considered, they're nice and well. But we're going to need a place to keep the little ones warm." He paused. "Also, I want to go home, so let's make it quick."

Toby smiled. "Henrietta...you've got plenty of room, haven't you?"

"Ohhhh...fine." She sounded grumpy.

Toby stayed with Henrietta and the lambs for a few days, just to make sure that they were all right. And because, well, how often was it that you got to see new life born every day. And soon, the snow had melted. Duck arrived to help the two of them back down, with a very grateful farmer waving him off and denying furiously that he had stolen his lantern.

"Thank you, Toby. we couldn't av done it wiyaa' you, you...beautiful shed!"

"Ah, it's all right." said the modest tram. "No, thank you. Nothing I like better than helping out a friend in need...though maybe consider getting an accent coach. That bit might get old really, really fast."

...

"Thinking of something, Toby?" asked Duck, as he helped the old tram back towards the junction.

"Oh...something Gordon said before this all started. About how I was pretty bland. And forgettable. And really only there to swell out the numbers. And be a token representative of trams...he said a lot of things."

"Ah. And this has taught you something?"

"It has."

"And that is?"

"That Gordon is a fucking idiot who, if we had arses, wouldn't know how to wipe his if we gave him detailed instructions on a nice laminated sheet of paper."

"It's a good lesson."

...

A few days earlier, Duck and Edward had been chatting to the Duchess of Hamilton.

Well...chatting was a bit of a strong word. Mostly it was her having to remark "No comment" to questions regarding the Iron Circle. It was beginning to get rather annoying.

"Okay!" said Duck, after a few minutes of this. "Let's cut to the chase. Is there anything you can tell us about the Iron Circle? ...Or anything that can possibly give us a hand with the issues we're facing."

The Duchess hesitated, and shook her face.

"Come on, you were all 'I'll try' earlier! And now...what?"

"I can't say. I really, really can't say."

Duck was about to speak, when Edward cut in. "Um, hello there, Edward here...look, Duck here clearly trusts you. I'm not sure if he's right to, but he does. And I understand that there are some things that you can't speak about for fear of compromising security. So I'm going to tell you what I think has happened since the last time he made contact with you.

Since the Battle of Shining Time, you've come under a hell of a lot of scrutiny. Your forces were, to be frank, pitiful when you arrived at Shining Time, and the other engines arriving was more or less a really, really big bit of luck. Since then, you've had countries either pull out of your group financially wise, or insisting on more oversight to make sure that you don't screw it up even more so. But not only that. A secret organization is, by it's own logic, one that doesn't advertise. The losses you took during the fights will have cut down your ranks significantly, and seeing as, as I have said, the international community isn't exactly keen on you at the moment, that means you're not getting bolstered by that lot. So you've been trying to scout out any potential new recruits. Unfortunately, you're stuck in the old ways. With the Other Railway gone, the number of distressed and oppressed souls that have little choice in the matter have dropped drastically. ...So that's why you've not been as active recently. There is no enemy for you to fight, and even if there were, you don't have the enginepower to do any fighting."

He took a deep breath. "Now, as to why you've cut contact with Duck here. I'm more certain that the above happened than I am with this, but here we go. It's plain old pettiness. We won. We beat the Malevolence. And we did so in a week. You had twenty years to come up with an idea or something to stop the Other Railway and the Malevolence, but you didn't. And by, admittedly, a huge amount of luck and bluffing our way through, we beat them. ...Everything that has happened to the Iron Circle since then can't have been helped by that simple fact. You don't have the ability to rub it in other countries faces that you won the day. You don't have any trophies, just scars. You don't even have the engine whom you did this all for, she stayed put in America of all places. ...So you're not answering because you're sulking. Or at least, the higher ups are, I think you're willing to meet with us, but there's something that they're planning which means you don't want us interfering with it.

Am I correct?"

The Duchess looked at Edward, and Edward looked at the Duchess.

Finally, she spoke.

"You know, I think it's frankly a mistake of immeasurable magnitude that we didn't try and recruit you for our side."

Edward gave what might have been a bow of the head. "Well, I would have been flattered."

"...I can't confirm anything you've just said. I hope you realize that." She paused, significantly. "Nor can I deny it." She looked at both of them for another moment. "...Tell me what you know. I shall investigate, and return with any information I can gather. That is the best I can offer you right now."

...

As the two engines headed back across the Vicartown Bridge, the Duchess of Hamilton headed off to a quiet siding to think things through. The Iron Circle were many things, but they were not without some capacity for forethought. Leaving the people who had singlehandedly saved the universe to a terrible fate may have given some of them great pleasure, but personally it was beginning to grow wearisome...

At which point, everything turned white. And the Duchess forgot everything that had happened in the last hour.

She blinked once or twice. "Where...am I?"

"You were just getting a cuppa. Think we might have had a little too much stuff last night." City of Truro smiled affably. "Don't worry. all going well."

The Duchess of Hamilton sighed. "We...We need to talk about our next actions. I...I have the feeling there's something strange going on at Sodor."

"There always is." Truro smiled again, and as they moved off, the Duchess failed to notice the memory wiping technology retreat back into Truro's cab. "Don't worry about it. By the time it's all finished, there'll be peace in our time."

* * *

For those who don't remember, Truro used the memory wiping thing on Duck back in Volume 1. So...the Duchess has now completely forgotten her meeting with the two engines.

But hey, things can't get any worse than that, right?

.

.

.

See you next time!


	21. Episode 21: Thomas, Percy and the Squeak

This episode is fine. I like it. Though I do have to wonder, of all the characters that have been brought back, why is it that Alicia Botti is one of the ones who got used more? It's odd. Also, we've got some things setting up other plots that won't be started for a bit yet. But that's after the episode, so you can skip that, if you want.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Very true, very true.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Truro is not nearly as smart as he thinks he is.

 **Bronze Shield:** Glad you all enjoyed it!

 **Game-Watch:** Eh, to an extent. I'd argue that at the very least, Season 7 gave most of the characters at least one episode to have a good moment. Toby Had A Little Lamb is definitely better than Toby's Windmill, if only because it gives Toby a bit of dignity.

 **MattPrice01:** It's a silly pun, but I enjoyed writing it! Glad you enjoyed it!

 **UGX7** : It's a pity they didn't do more like this episode with Toby. And yeah, that accent is...certainly something. I actually used an online translator for it, just for kicks.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** He probably should. Then again, they're kind of stuck together. Oh, and no payment necessary. Just get to the back of the queue. And there's a long one.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

2003 dawned. And at last, the snow stopped coming down. At least, for a bit.

And the engines on the Island of Sodor began to look forward to summer time. The Fat Controller arranges lots of concerts, and then several funerals just on the off chance that people die. This makes sense when you consider that the infamous 'Topsy-Turvey' concert of 32 was held on the Island of Sodor. The one where several slugs, the size of pigs, invaded the concert and proceeded to eat several cauliflowers. And the people who had grown them. Not to even get into the Great Duck Plague of 53. And of course, the attempt to relaunch Topsy Turvey back in the seventies, which had ended with twelve dead, fourteen injured and the near economic collapse of the whole Island.

So concerts and funerals tended to go hand in hand. When music goes drifting through the air, the engines do enjoy it. Primarily because that means that there is a chance of getting paid.

One morning, the engines were all very excited. Alicia Botti, winner of the most unfortunate name since...ever, the famous opera singer was arriving on Sodor to give a concert.

"She's a coloratura"

"Well we musn't hold it against her." Thomas sighed. "Okay, tell me Gordon. What is a...what is that word you just used?"

"It means that she can sing high notes very, very, very, very loud." Gordon said. He was glad that he had stolen the word from Edward's dictionary the day before, or otherwise he would have looked a right prat.

"The Fat Controller will pick ME to collect her! As I am the brightest and shiniest and also the one who has the most beautiful face."

"That doesn't hold up, James." remarked Henry.

"Besides, he shall choose ME! As the most important engine here!" Gordon's usual boast didn't exactly make anyone sit up and listen. Thomas was to busy trying to stroke his ego into flaring up one last time.

"Could choose me." he murmured. No one listened to him, as Percy stormed in looking incredibly mucky. As per usual, then.

"Well one thing I think we can agree on." said Gordon. "He won't choose Dirty Percy over here!"

"DON'T CALL ME DIRTY PERCY! ...It makes me sound like a percussionist!"

"...A what?"

"Pervert. I meant pervert. Bloody head wound's acting up again!"

...

The next day came, and the Fat Controller didn't choose Gordon.

Or James.

Surprise surprise, it was Douglas.

...No, of course not, it was Thomas. Whoop-de-doo. Why is this a surprise anymore?

"Make sure Oldbag and Dingbat are squeaky clean! Also, make sure that you wipe that stupid grin off of your face, you look positively ridiculous, and we don't have time to give you a face lift."

"Yes sir!" Thomas couldn't let the insults get to him, he was feeling far too important and puffed up for that to matter.

"MOVE ASIDE, PEONS! DIRTY PERCY, GO AWAY! FOR IT IS THOMAS'S DAY TO BE IMPORTANT!" he declared in an sutiably hammy fashion. He was running dangerously close to his 1984 style attitude here, and it did not go unnoticed.

"But I need a washdown!" wailed Percy. "We had a whole episode about it! And my passengers will laugh at me!"

"They don't already?! Besides, I have to be squeaky clean and junk! You'll just have to wait! Patience, Percy, is a virtue!"

"So's not being a complete dickbag, but that hasn't stopped you! I CAN'T wait! I'M A GUARANTEED CONNECTION!"

"Piss off!"

And off Percy sulked.

Gordon looked, and felt, dead inside.

Soon, the tank engine was shining and squeaky clean. He was incredibly smug, and pleased with himself. As he waited to be coupled up to the two coaches, though, the workman paused for a moment. "Did you?"

"Yeah, was that-?"

A slow squeak, the kind that one might expect from a door with rusty hinges, cut through the yard. Thomas raised his eyebrow, and in his most tranquil, yet furious, voice, asked. "And what, pray tell, is that?"

The driver got down on his hands and knees and oiled Annie and Clarabel's undercarriages. Please note that you should never do this to anyone in real life, as it tends to get you looks. And far louder noises than squeaks, let me tell you.

"That should take care of that bothersome squeak!"

"Did you really just say that?"

"Shut up, you're only a fireman."

...

On the way to the docks, Thomas heard the squeak again. And since the two coaches were sulking because of the insults thrown their way, he couldn't exactly ask them. It was bothering him something fierce, as it didn't sound like a squeaky clean squeak.

He squeaked into the docks and towards the ferry, where Alicia Botti was waiting. Behind her, watching intently, was another member of the Railway Board, eyes as hollow as ever and writing calmly on his notepad. Thomas tried to make himself as small as possible, all the while still squeaking away, as he pulled up besides the Fulton Ferry.

The Fat Controller held Clarabel's door open.

Gordon, Edward and Henry watched from the sidings.

Thomas took a deep breath.

At which point, Alicia Botti saw the source of the squeak. A very, very small mouse who appeared to only be able to move like a Christmas tree ornament.

It is a well known fact that Opera Singers have very, very, very powerful lungs.

Alicia Botti put this fact in the mind of everyone within a thousand miles as she screamed. She screamed repeatedly, non-stop, flat out, for what felt like four hours, but in reality was only thirty minutes. She screamed for so long and so loud that windows shattered everywhere. Women went into labor. Firefighters were called out to emergencies. Air raid sirens, still left in place following the war, started. A whole contingent of Norris's, all convinced that it was finally time to take up arms against the dirty Reds, marched towards Knapford with various armaments. The lantern thief, in the process of nicking yet another lantern, decided that whatever this was was more powerful than he, and so decided to lay low for the next week or so, just in case.

After she had stopped screaming, the opera singer passed out. No one else could tell, though. Their eardrums were not quite shattered, but they were almost there.

"Definitely a Coloratura"

"WHAT WAS THAT, GORDON!?"

"EH!?"

"WHO!?"

"WHAT'S HAPPENING?!"

Once she came around, Madame de Botti was furious. "NO NO NO! I-A CANNOT-A POSSIBLY DO ANYTHING OF THE-A SORT! THERE-A SHALL BE NO CONCERTO IF I-A HAVE TO-A A-TRAVEL IN THAT RIDICULOUS COACH FILLED WITH THE-A VERMIN-A AND THE-A DROPPINGS AND THE-SQUEAK! MAMA MIA!"

"All right, calm down Bella Lasanga." said Topham, who lived on an Island filled with people with over the top accents, and even he thought this was going a little far. His cheeks were red. Not as red as Thomas's mind, who wanted to sink into the ground and never come out again.

To make matters worse, Percy rushed in, apparently having fallen into the chocolate factory again on his way here. He jumped out of his skin as Alicia began to coo at him. "LOOK-AT-DE-LITTLE A-GREEN ENGINE! OH HE IS-A SO CUTE! SO-A SWEET, AND A-DIRTY! I-A LIKE MY-PEOPLE TO-BE-A DIRTY!"

"Dear god, if he ends up becoming her consort, I'm leaving." muttered Henry.

"PEASANT" snapped Gordon, in full on snooty mood.

"Yes, I am pleasant!" said Percy. He was just glad someone noticed him. As they climbed onboard, Percy left with the smuggest expression on his face possible. He left three engines with jaws dropped, and one slightly nonplussed engine in his wake.

"Well..." said Edward, the Nonplussed Engine. "That...happened."

...

Later, Percy and Thomas met each other at the wash down. Gordon was also there, but his wheels had come off the track, and he was mightily peeved. "I'm sorry I called you Dirty Percy. You go first." Thomas said this with gritted teeth. He didn't really want to apologize, but Edward had rather pressured him into it.

"Thanks Thomas!" said Percy, with forced cheer. He had not enjoyed having to take the prima donna around the Island. "It feels good to be friends." He almost vomited up those last words. "But where's your mouse?"

"You'll see."

"Will I?"

"I...I don't know, let's just forget this thing ever happened."

And that night, Alicia Botti sang her heart out. It was...an unique experience. Thomas and Percy, however, decided that they've much rather turn their bunkers to the outside world and watch the mouse, whom the Fat Controller had given a home in Tidmouth Sheds, and whom they had named Alicia. It was boring. And both engines knew it.

"This is entertainment right here."

"This is the last time I let you talk me into anything, Thomas."

...

13/08/01

How odd it is.

This is a little less formal than the others for reasons that...will become clear. But I found an answer, into what it was that you wanted me to look into. Or at least...part of an answer. I am not sure as of yet.

The time portals haven't stopped. They've merely slowed down. It used to be that every day or so, one would pop up. It would be for a brief moment, maybe, not even enough for someone to notice. But it would be there. But now? The machine that Davidson created, to... record and harness them, if you would like to call it that, still lies in the old quarry. My assumption is that the Great Western Engine didn't know what it was for. So...he didn't remove it.

I've been using it for the past year to measure the regularity of the portals appearing. To be more specific, on here.

And thus far?

Once a month.

That's it.

It may be that more have been popping up in areas across the world, as they did during our heyday. But thus far, I've been getting little. There is one area in which I've been able to find quite an amount of disturbance. Checking the data you have sent me, it would appear that this was the area where the Malevolence made his last stand. Before escaping through one of the portals and into the body of Ten. The 'grotto' as it is referred to has been relatively untouched. I believe this results from the constant movement this Island undergoes. No one place stays the same for long, and this is out of the way even at the best of times.

And there's a indentation, around one area, where a man may have landed after a long fall. There are those who say that they saw a hot air balloon arise from the area where I stood, and that it vanished after something or other fell from it.

Will keep you updated.

 **J.D.**

...

15/08/01

He is here. Mr Benn has found me.

Get me out of here.

Now.

 **J.D**


	22. Episode 22: Thomas and the Jet Engine

This one is a treat. See, this is one of those episodes where railway realism can go hang in my opinion. There's something delightfully nuts about the four minutes here, very Season 5 esque. Plus, Angelis's narration is once again a treat. Next time is another of my favorite episodes of the season, and it's the last one of the standard gauge engines. Hence, any bits in the last three episodes of the season will be original/moving the story forward. And finally, the Abridgement story is progressing. It's just that it's most likely to come out after I've completed Season 6 and as I work on Jack and the Pack.

Oh, and the bit at the end. Essentially, it's my way of teasing what I have planned over the next few seasons. Ain't I a stinker?

 **AaronCottrell97:** Same.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Well, we'll just have to see, won't we? ...And yes, he was shot. But...well, I did leave the door open, so to speak. We'll be getting some more information on him over the seasons.

 **Bronze Shield:** I'm really glad!

 **Game-Watch:** Perhaps it was! The Great Mouse Demon of Sodor!

 **MattPrice01:** Oh yeah, I'm really glad someone caught that!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Right? Yeah, Thomas slips back into his Season 1-3 personality here.

 **Guest:** Yeah, that's about right.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

Right, right, okay, what does the script say this time?

Oh right.

Gordon is a very proud steam engine-

Okay, for the record. Do you really need me to tell you this? Okay, if this is your first time, I understand, really, I do. But for the love of God, we're not exactly venturing into new territory here. We're not talking 'Here There Be Dragons' or anything like that. You know the drill. Gordon is a tosser. End of story.

Ahem, right. Um, fastest engine on the Island of Sodor, blah blah blah. Loves racing across the line, blah blah blah. Wind blowing across his funnel, blah blah blah blah BLAH. MOVING ON.

So all the engines were gathered at Knapford Station, primarily so that they could all discuss the fact that they were getting massive paychecks because of all of the merchandise. Except for Edward, who had to take a massive pay-cut. It is not a good life, being Edward. Especially considering that he had only now been told of the plans to shut down his branch-line for the time being.

"You've broken the record again!" said his driver.

"And my arm!" wailed his fireman.

There was no record, really. His driver just told Gordon that to enable his egocentric ways. In many ways, perhaps it would have been better to slap Gordon across the face and tell him to suck it up, like Edward had often wanted to do throughout the years. So when Gordon said things like, as he did now "I'M THE FASTEST!", everyone would not immediately roll their eyes and remark silently to themselves: Oh, really?

But back to business.

The engines were not impressed. "Speed isn't everything!" sniffed James in a particularly James-like way.

"Neither is being a complete prick, and yet you insist upon it." remarked Henry, softly.

"Being Reliable and Really Useful is!"

"Shut up Thomas." said all the engines.

Gordon took it further. "You slow engines will never understand the responsibillity that I hold! It's almost more a curse than a blessing! ...Ah who am I kidding, it's definitely a blessing!"

The Fat Controller arrived to give news of the macguffin- I mean, plot device- I mean...special. Yeah. The special was for Thomas, of course because who else would it be for? "I want you to take the- Stone the crows it's bright! Where the hell did that sun come from!? ...Er, anyroad, go to the Docks, collect the Jet Engine and take it to the airfield. You know which one."

"What's a jet engine?"

"I'll give you three hints, Percy. And the first two don't count."

Percy looked at Hatt blankly.

"Ugh. It's an engine that moves forward by pushing hot air out of it's back."

"Just like blowing up a balloon!" Thomas said, helpfully.

"Or Sir once he's had too many cream buns." muttered James, who was in a rebellious mood.

...

Thomas likes making special deliveries for the Fat Controller. It makes him feel...special. And if you watched the last episode, you'd know how well that usually goes. I.E, not at all. Secretly, he wished he could go as fast as Gordon.

But then he wouldn't be able to go "NYAH NYAH!" to one of the Scottish twins. Every cloud has a silver lining.

Thomas arrived at the dock, keen to see what the jet engine looked like. "HOLY-" The last word was drowned out by the exceptionally loud blast of the ship's horn. He wasn't entirely sure why there were a ton of boxes on the jet engine, that looked a little unsafe. But whatever, he was going to look...well, not grand, exactly. Or special. Or even that impressive.

"I'm going to look like a prat with that attached!" he murmured.

"So different than usual then!" snapped Cranky.

"Piss off Cranky! And hurry up! This is a special special!"

"WHY WON'T YOU LET ME DIE?!" wailed the crane. He was in no mood to take any shit from anyone today, and especially not an engine like Thomas. But so cranky was he, that he was careless with his hook. Somehow, instead of accidentally ripping off the control panel, his hook switched the lever on by accident.

There was a singular pause as everyone in the harbor realized what was about to happen. Except for Thomas, who as with that infamous time with Gordon and the express, was a minute or so behind everyone.

"Oops." said Cranky.

"OH HECK!" said his fireman, leaping off and running away.

"Dum dum dum dum, da da, dum." hummed Thomas, blissfully unaware that anything was about to happen. The jet engine began to slowly hum as well. Then it whined. And then it roared.

At which point, Thomas turned around and frowned at the sight of the large red plume of frame coming out of the back of the jet engine. "Hang on a second, is it meant to do-"

There was a bright flash and Thomas promptly vanished from sight. Cranky's mouth dropped, as did his monthly earnings once word of what he had done got back to the higher ups.

"-THAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!?" shrieked Thomas, his lips pulled back exposing most of his gums as by some miracle, he rocketed round the bends. The William Tell Overture was playing loud and clear in his mind, along with a loud siren shouting "OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT TOO FAST TOO FAST TOO FAST SOMEONE STOP."

Unfortunately, the driver was about as useful as a chocolate teapot. He tried to put on the brakes, but the jet engine was doing the majority of the pushing, and this had no effect on how fast Thomas was going. "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH BOOOOOOOOOOYYYYYYY!" He screamed as he raced through Lower Tidmouth, shocking Dowager Hatt and Jerimiah Jobling, who were waiting for a train to...have a little snog in a private carriage. Sir Topham would not approve.

All over the Island, managers phoned as many of their employees as they could. The Stationmaster at Lower Tidmouth passed the message on to Dryaw's, just as Thomas rushed by screaming bloody murder. "BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDY MUUUUUUUUUUUURDERR!"

"CLEAR THE LINES! THERE'S A RUNAWAY TRAIN! WHAT?! NO THIS ISN'T A PRANK!"

And so the lines were cleared, engines rushed into yards and hid themselves behind line after line of trucks. Signals were set, points were changed, all done so that Thomas had the free run of the Island. Thomas had never been so excited...and so terrified.

He raced through Maron, past James.

"WHAT WAS THAT!?" asked James, wondering if Toad had gotten loose again. This all felt very familiar. "WHY IS THERE ALL THIS GRAVEL ON ME!?"

Thomas took Gordon's Hill completely by surprise, smashing up it with the speed of twenty gazelles, scaring the living hell out of Henry, who vowed to leave off the alcohol for a week at least.

Percy did a double take as Thomas zoomed under a bridge and past him. "Oh god, I need some stronger meds." He wailed.

Thomas, meanwhile, was beginning to wonder if this was what being enlightened felt like. "HOLY SHIT I CAN SEE EVERYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYTHIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!" The tank engine sped on, his driver by this point huddling on the floor in terror.

Bertie was excited as he saw Thomas literally flying down the track. "Fancy a race Thomas?!"

"HOLYSHITBERTIECALLFORHELPPLEASEOHGODMAKEITSTOP!"

"Uh...never mind."

No one had ever seen an engine go so fast. Unfortunately, Thomas had now reached such a speed that the sound barrier was breaking at least three times per minute, and thus left the tracks for a short time. He promptly flattened five chicken houses, took out five people named Norris and nearly scared the smile off of Terrance, before he landed roughly back on the rails.

Gordon, however, had not heard any of this. He rushed along the viaduct feeling his usual smug self. Seconds later, Thomas followed him, all the while screaming incoherently.

"I AM THE GREATEST! Watch me fly!"

As they came up towards another one of the hills, Thomas rounded the bend and rocketed along to a dumbstruck Gordon. "HIGORDON! BYEGORDON! NYAH NYAH, GORDON!"

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-?" said the big engine.

Once they had cleared the tunnel, Thomas carried on for another four minutes (During which he destroyed several trucks, the memorial to the victims of the Great Duck Plague and also most of his remaining sanity) before at last, the jet engine ran out of power and he came to a none-too graceful stop. Oh sure, people claim he came to a gentle stop in Knapford Station.

Those people are wrong.

Because if not, answer me how the hell Gordon managed to beat the puffball back.

Go on.

I'll wait.

.

.

.

.

.

You can't, can you!? HA! I WIN!

...Sorry, right, story.

Thomas was now stunned into complete silence. So his driver did a rather poor imitation of his voice. "Sorry for overtaking you back there, Gordon!"

"OVERTAKE ME!? I didn't notice!" Gordon could bullshit with the best of them.

"You didn't notice the fastest engine on the Island?" asked Henry, stirring the pot.

"YESIAMTHEFASTESTENGINEANDIHATEITIWANTTOGOHOME." Thomas said, all in one breath.

Percy was feeling a little sorry for Gordon. For some reason. "Gordon doesn't have to go as fast as a jet engine. He's a steam engine!"

"Thanks for that. We didn't know before." James murmured. "But he's still full of hot air!"

Gordon wheeshed away in a huffe.

Thomas wheeshed away to be violently ill in the corner of the yard.

...

02/01/02

For the purposes of the story, we will note that there is no discernable discourse of the previous types found in this letter. On it, there are merely scribbles of pictures, crude ones but surprisingly disturbing ones. There are words, but most of them are overlapping over each other, so it is near impossible for us to find out what they are.

Save for a few.

 ** _THE WEAPON IS COMING._**  
 ** _PRAY._**  
 ** _DON'T TRUST THE-  
OLD SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT  
ALIAS-ALIAS-ALIAS-ALIAS-ALIAS_**  
 ** _MIRROR MIRROR  
Beware she who wears yellow  
THE JESTER CANNOT/SHOULD-NOT/MUST-NOT BE TRUSTED!  
LOOK UP TO THE SKY.  
_** ** _HE WILL SAVE US ALL. ONE WAY OR ANOTHER._**

The writing is not that of the mysterious 'J.D'.

No. This is someone else entirely.

Or possibly, something.


	23. Episode 23: Edward the Useful Engine

So...I've been off on holiday for a bit! And as the connection there was terrible, there's been no Abridged stuff coming out. My apologies. Let's get straight into it with one of my favorite episodes of the season!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Agreed!

 **Reality Rejection Service** : That is so wise.

 **Bronze Shield:** I'm glad I did okay.

 **Game-Watch:** True that! Paperwork is terrible, especially for people who have to DO football!

 **UGX7:** Yeaaaaah. It's...pretty worrying stuff. XD. Well, I'm not going to tell you yet. Gonna be a bit before we meet her.

 **MattPrice01:** I like to imagine that the Norris's were like bowling pins, making the noise when they got knocked over and all. I AM THE OMINOUS ENDING MAN.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Appreciated!

 **JD145:** I agree with you there. Everything's just completely fun. I wish the show would do more high speed episodes like this, it's really fun to write.

 **trestonfortson2016:** Glad you were entertained and/or disturbed!

 **Hughie96:** All questions that will be answered...in time. Soon. Maybe.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

"So...have you noticed anything different about Edward recently?"

"Define different." Toby looked over the rim of his paper, trying to ignore the latest report of idiocy from the White House, instead looking at Duck, who was busy tossing out various books that had been defaced with the badly written smut that Oliver had found.

"...Well, I mean...grumpier. A little bit meaner. He's becoming a bit off, isn't he?"

The two engines watched as Edward entered the yard angrily, and began to biff the trucks harder than was maybe necessary. Then he swore at a passing seagull.

"You may-" remarked Toby after a pause. "-have a point. He deserves a break."

He was about to get one.

...

All right, all right, the scripts are...okay, we're doing the generic intro thing again? Right, right.

Blah blah, engines on the Island of Sodor at good at different things, blah blah blah, Gordon on the express because he doesn't shut the hell up about it, blah blah blah, Percy takes the mail because that's the only reason we keep him around any more blah blah BLAH, oh, and Edward. Yeah, he's in this show too. You remember him?

Yeah, when he's not shunting trucks, he's very good at being a back engine. And when I say very good, I mean he has little competition, so he's kind of good by default.

"Oi! Mister Narrator! I've had a crummy season all around, can I please get some positive reinforcement?"

What, in this season? NEVER!

"Ohhhhhhhh fudge."

When engines have heavy loads, Edward comes along to give them some relie-OH DEAR GOD! OLIVER! GET YOUR SLASH FICTION OUT OF HERE! THIS IS A SERIOUS EPISODE.

"Wow, this is an unusually meta episode, isn't it?" Edward murmured to James.

"Yeah. Bit weird that. Now...PUSH HARDER!"

"Oh bitch bitch bitch, why don't you try getting down here and shove a few engines up a hill."

Ahem, back to the 'story' as it were. Edward may be really useful, but he's also old, which is the worst sin of all on this Island. Some engines think this makes him unreliable. Then again, these engines are the ones who constantly getting into crashes and repeatedly get sentenced to 'the yard' as a punishment. So take what they say with...well, an entire shaker full of salt, let's be honest.

...

"Edward is a useless old steam pot." said Gordon.

"Good morning to you too, Gordon." muttered Edward, who was sitting right besides him.

"He should be retired! With a bullet to the forehead!"

"Again, right besides you, so...thanks."

"But he doesn't have tyres!" Percy paused, and shook his head. "Sorry, I've been drinking a lot. I'm feeling real stupid today."

"Oh, Percy, you silly boob! Retired! Taken out of service...though often not with a bullet to the head!" Thomas glared at Gordon, who stuck out his tongue in rebellion before continuing with his speech.

"And not a moment too soon!"

Henry and James agreed with this.

"YEAH!"

"Screw Edward!"

"Next time, the old iron'll let you kill yourselves, you ungrateful sons...ah, who cares. I don't. Screw you." Edward puffed away in a real sulk, while Percy began to feel really upset.

...

"OI! Perce! You look like shit! What do you look like someone's pissed in your water tank?"

"Oh Carlin, you're right!"

"Someone HAS pissed in your water tank!? The bastards! I'll nail em!"

"What? N-No, that I'm depressed! It's Edward! The big engines don't think he's useful any more! ...Again!" Percy was aware that by this point, the 'Edward is old and smelly and should die in a ditch somewhere' trope was beginning to get a little overplayed. Still, he had to act his little heart out, primarily so that he could watch as Gordon got his comeuppance rubbed in his face vigorously.

When they arrived at Maron (Which was a bit more curvy than the engines had remembered it, but then again, on this Island that was the least of their worries) Carlin decided to talk to the Fat Controller about it. Said Fat Controller had decided that Gordon had been getting a bit too lippy again, and decided to fix that. "I SHALL ATTEND TO THE MATTER IMMEDIATELY!"

"Calm down, Sean Connery. Don't want you to slur your words even more than they already have been."

The Fat Controller had A PLAN.

Unfortunately, it was impossible to find anyone actually willing to go to jail for arson.

So he went with his second plan. Which was far more complicated.

"EDWARD, HOLD UP!"

"Huh? Oh. Morning sir. ...Can I get my branch-line back yet?"

"Doesn't work like that, Eddie!"

"Don't...Don't call me...okay, whatever. What can I help you with?"

"As you know, the new loop line has been completed!"

Edward frowned, blankly. "Didn't realize we had a new loop line, sir. Or that it was even being built this year. Matter of fact, this is the first time we've even had a conversation regarding anything rail related bar me getting the short end of the stick again."

"Well, we have one! I want you to teach Stepney how to run it!"

Edward tilted his head a little. "Okay, sir...not to critique your...flawless decisions, but I have a few questions. First of all, why me in particular? I mean, Duck actually knows Stepney better than me, and he'll be working there more than me in any case. Secondly, what's Stepney even going to be doing on that loop line? Doesn't he have to head back to the Bluebell at some point? Thirdly, why does Stepney get his own line? Couldn't you just...I don't know, auction that off instead of shoving me back on general truck shunting duty? And fourthly, related to my last point, who is going to look after the trucks?"

"Duck will! Now shut up and let me give you a confidence boost!"

"What?"

"What?"

Both stared at each other.

"Oooooooooookay." Edward puffed off.

When the other engines heard that Duck was taking over for Edward, they were very happy. For some reason. This was the engine whom, last time he had acted as a back engine, had accidentally broken a break van and ruined the Flying Kipper once more.

"Duck is very reliable!" said Henry, who had conveniently forgotten this fact.

"Bah! Makes no difference to me! I don't need a back engine, not no how!"

"Oh really?!" said the entire world. Gordon ignored them.

...

"So, the loop line isn't real?"

"Nope." Stepney called out for a cocktail for Edward, before turning back to the blue engine. "This is actually just a normal station that's been closed down for this whole prank thing. Don't know why he sent us over here?"

"Hmm...well, I mean, we've already shown how hard we work for the cameras...wanna get drunk?"

"I thought that was what we were doing."

...

Duck was wondering why it was that he didn't get to go off and get drunk with Stepney, instead having to lug about a ton of ungrateful demons in wooden form. Especially considering that they were playing their silly tricks on him. "Please don't sing." he murmured under his breath.

And.

Well.

Guess what happened?

"Duck should play with other ducks! Cause he's no good at pulling trucks! QUACK QUACK QUACK!"

"Get someone to write that new material of yours, because this is really getting old." And then Duck spotted Gordon's Hill. "Oh goodness gracious...right now I'll take crashing into a barber shop over this." He huffed and puffed as best as he could. Unfortunately, the trucks had slammed on their brakes the second that they had crossed under the bridge, and Duck made it only halfway up before coming to a stop.

Duck was stuck, with the trucks running amuck, all out of luck. RHYMES.

"Oh no!" said the driver. "We are never going to live this down! And more importantly, this is Gordon's line! ...In hindsight, this seems a bit contrived." He glanced at the fireman, who whistled innocently. "What was it that Fatty said to you before we started off?"

"Oh nothing. Just a...extra paycheck to make sure that this goes a bit slower than usual."

"I hate you."

"Hate you too!"

The guard had already rushed down to the convinient telephone that was there for some reason to warn the signalman. "TOO LATE!" was the response. "You're going to have to flag Gordon down!"

Gordon rounded the bend to see the guard flicking the bird at him, before realizing what the signalman had meant, and waving a red flag enthusiastically. "If I stop on this hill, I will never live it down or get started again!"

But he had no choice. Well he did. But backing up or slowing down wasn't an option for the big engine. He buffered up to Duck, and tried his best to shove Duck up the hill.

Ten minutes later, and he decided to call it a day. He was pooped out.

"No bloody use!" hissed the driver. "We need a back engine! ...Again."

"Feels a bit repetitive, this."

"Ugh. Is Edward there?"

"Of course I am." murmured Edward. "When aren't I? Hi Gordon!" He was a bit excited, truth be told. To be the back engine for two trains, well! It was worth rubbing it in Gordon's smug prat face.

The strange train set off. Even with both engines at the front providing a little bit of power, Edward had to struggle up the hill pretty much on his own. "This...This was really dumb! ...How are you two doing?"

"Fine thanks!"

"EAT A DICK!"

Can you guess which engine said what? ...If you can't, then there's no hope for you.

...

Thomas and James watched in baffled amazement as the cavalcade of confusion puffed into Knapford. Duck, now red with exhaustion, was pushed through the station and onto a siding out of the way. Unfortunately, Gordon had to stop at the platform to let his passengers off...and then he had to interact with them.

"Look!" said a brat. "The back engine brought two trains! HE MUST BE THE STRONGEST AND THE BEST."

Gordon was rendered speechless with embarrassment.

 _This day cannot get any worse, he thought._

"WELL GORDON."

 _Oh dear._

"You have said rude things about Edward! And I'm, for once, trying to care about it! Today he has proven himself to be useful, reliable and very helpful! HA! Choke on that! Gimme a BAFTA!"

...

Later, Gordon arrived to apologize to Edward. "Thank you, Edward. You really are a useful engine. I'm sorry."

In Edward's head, the following passed through his mind.

 _No you're not. You're never sorry. You've never been sorry. I work my arse off for you lot every single day of every single year. I help you up hills, I make sure your trains run on time, i don't ask for much, I really don't. You never say nice things about me, and even your apologies sound like you have to get them out of the way so that you can go back to insulting me at a later date. You really think I don't hear you, don't you? I've been listening all this time. I know what you guys call me...why? Why do you always go back to doing the same old shit again and again? It's gotten old, for me as well. You and I are practically the same age, we've been here the same amount of time, why why why why why why why-_

Out loud, he smiled, and said "It's good to be back." And off he puffed again.

...

The Fat Controller smiled to himself. His ingenious plan had worked! All was well!

He walked into the office. And screamed.

"HELLO." said the Railway Board as one. Alcroft and Mitton looked just as terrified as he did. "WE NEED TO HAVE A TALK ABOUT...THE FUTURE."

Hatt gulped.

* * *

So...Edward's rant is something that's going to lead that afromentioned scene where I basically analyze why 'OH MY GOD, I AM SO WITTY' when I get to Season 8. Perhaps you have an idea of where this is going. Or perhaps not!

Up next: The Skarloey Railway gets a look in, in three episodes. Also, pretty important stuff, as we set up for the final season of the classic series.

...I'm just as sad as you are.


	24. Episode 24: Dunkin Duncan

And here's where another one of my ideas from Magic Railroad comes into play. Namely, the destruction of Crovan's Gate. Aside from getting rid of the Works and allowing us to prepare for the Steamworks to arrive, it also gave me a chance to explain away the shift in how the Skarloey Railway works from Season 6 onwards.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yeah, but as a forerunner to that episode, I think last episode did fine.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : It's going to be big when it does happen.

 **Bronze Shield:** Pretty much!

 **Game-Watch:** He kinda is. But...well, there are consequences.

 **UGX7:** Give him time, and he will. Oh god, will he ever...

 **MattPrice01:** It is, isn't it!? It's a real shame.

 **JD145:** I have watched JBS! And honestly...I really liked it! The characters were my favorite part, I'd love to see more of them in Season 22...if they can use them, I mean. And I've already got tons of ideas for what to do if I ever get that far.

 **LoneDrifter213:** Hope it lives up to expectations!

 **GreatWeestern1522:** That's kind of the idea, at the moment. If a bit more emotional.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

"We have an issue."

Edward's eyes, looking a little duller than they had previously been, snapped up to meet Duck's. "What? Serious issue or 'Haha, Gordon's fallen in the well' issue."

"Serious. Hatt, Britt, David and the Railway Board have been in that office for close to an hour now." Duck was worried. "The Duchess should have gotten back to me by this point, which means either she's decided we're not worth the risk-"

"Or something bad's happened...yeah." Edward sighed. "Where's Toby?"

"I think something came up with that...you know, condition he has. The chest thing? Think he needs to get something. Which means, matey, it's just you and I to see what's going on."

"Funny. I could have sworn I just saw Bertie taking a bunch of camera guys off."

Duck laughed. "Oh, that. Apparently, they want to get a few of the Narrow Gauge engines in on the action, so that they're not completely forgotten about...or turn into background characters. Can you imagine being turned into a background character, Butch?"

"OH YOU THINK YOU'RE FUNNY, DO YOU!?"

...

Following the Battles of both Sodor and Shining Time, the Skarloey railway had been severely damaged, possibly more so than the standard gauge one had been. Several historic stations had been hit by the bombing runs, and had therefore been closed to try and reconstruct them. Crovan's Gate had been completely obliterated, and no one had been able to get through to examine the damage in more detail due to the severity of the blast. Therefore, most of the engines had been forced up into temporary accomadation in the mountains, where the old Culdee Fell railway had been located before it had quite literally fallen off the face of the earth.

To add to that, they were now a few engines down. Smudger, or Bertram, or whatever he called himself, had died painfully, while Duke's body had yet to be recovered from the ruin that was Crovan's Gate. And Sir Handel...well, he'd dropped off the face of the universe. They weren't sure how he had gotten off the Island (After being informed about them by Duck, Skarloey hazarded a guess that somehow he'd passed through one of those mysterious portals that popped up everywhere), but there had been reports of him popping at one of the few quarries that still used working steam engines, and was staying there for a time.

Not that anyone cared enough to look for him. Peter Sam had lost it when Rheneas had suggested it, and Peter Sam angry was something that no engine ever wanted to see again. It was like discovering that a butterfly could also eat your face, it was very distressing.

And so it was that one day, Rusty, Skarloey and Rheneas were called up to assist at the Incline Quarry. Apparently, they were supposed to be cheerful. Skarloey and Rheneas weren't.

"Do we have to?!" whined Rheneas, now in the 'man-baby' personality that he had developed recently.

"Yes!" snapped Rusty, a cheerful face plastered on. "We are going to work with Duncan AND ENJOY IT! Now pick up the pace!"

"Boyo, this is some real shit." Skarloey moaned. He hadn't gotten to eat recently, and was therefore staring at the nearby sheep with something approaching agonizing desire.

"Hurry up!" Rusty didn't want to be left on his own with a whimpering Rheneas and...well, Duncan. Not when there was an important job to be doing.

...

The engines enjoy working at the incline railway, particularly because it means getting out of the rather angry atmosphere in their more ramshackle sheds And also because they are rather childlshly excited about seeing the clever way trucks are...you know what, you know how it works, I know how it works, let's move on.

But there was always a catch to this sort of thing. And the catch's name was Duncan.

Being careful here was always something that you should do. Just ask Peter Sam. Or don't. His bad mood was so weirdly upsetting that it might destroy your day.

And Duncan didn't like being careful, as has been noticed before. He didn't like working here in general, always ready to go back to the Junction (The equivalent of the Sidings for littler engines) and get drunk as a skunk. This makes him even more careless than usual, and gets him into more than the usual amount of trouble.

Why, who can forget the memorable incident where he accidentally managed to, somehow, stack a ton of trucks atop each other for a monster truck to drive over? Or the time that he somehow managed to derail while acting as a middle engine, along with every other truck in front and behind him? Or somehow managing to shatter an entire truck just by shunting it the wrong way?

When Duncan failed, he failed hard.

Rusty had hoped that on this day, Duncan would at the very least try and stay out of trouble.

They were oh so very wrong.

"Ah'm a plain speaking engine!" huffed Duncan, after felling a few trees on accident. "So collect ye fooking trucks and get out of here, sharpish!"

"WAAAAAH! What a bossy boots!" sobbed Rheneas the Whinging Engine.

"Boyo, he's a pushy puffer, so he is! I'M AN ADULT." Skarloey was suffering a nervous breakdown. He hadn't been fed yet.

"Look! He just wants to get back to the bustle of the Junction. As do we all! So man up!" Rusty was feeling a little bit more angry than usual, mostly because of how tiring managing them could be.

But as the day went on, Duncan grew more and more demanding, hurrying everyone on not matter what, despite sustaining several concussions in the course of his work. "YER SUPPOSED TA BE HELPING ME!" He grumbled, in that voice that made Rusty's teeth set on edge. "But ye're as slow as snails! And just as slimy!"

"Well, we're proper workers!" snapped Rusty. Already, they were beginning to feel their fifth migraine of the day coming on. "We're following the rules like we're supposed to!"

"We can't send up more than four trucks at a time!" parroted Rheneas. Skarloey was just too hungry to speak. Already he was beginning to see his brother as a large and very annoying chicken drumstick.

"THEN WORRRK, FASTER!" growled Duncan, who promptly crashed through a wall, so angry was he.

...

Later, after briefly becoming a mole and travelling underground, Duncan began to work the incline. "HA! AH'LL SHOW YE HOW FAST A REALLY USEFUL ENGINE CAN-A WORK!"

Rusty groaned, and watched as Duncan biffed one truck into another, and then another, until at last, he had the maximum four trucks that the incline could handle. We'll ignore the fact that we've seen at least five trucks on said incline before, because quite frankly, the way that the quarry worked was ramshackle at best.

"Nothing ta it!" He bragged to Rusty.

"Careful, mind. The trucks'll pay you back...as will the foreman when he sees what you've done to the place!"

"Ah can handle trucks! And when yer opinion is needed, I'll ask!" And off he puffed. Rusty, meanwhile, realized that they had better get going before Duncan's inevitable doom caught them in the crossfire. So they, Skarloey and Rheneas took the trucks of slate off to their destination.

In retrospect, leaving Duncan alone was not the wisest move. As he puffed about, swaggering like he owned the place, he buffered up to the trucks. "AH'LL SHOW THAT SMELLY DIESEL AND THOSE WHINY STEAMERS WHAT A REAL ENGINE IS LIKE!" He boasted to the crows. They found this hilarious.

"Careful. You're asking for it!" said the driver.

And he got it. For what Duncan had not realized was that the larger than average coupling was still attached to the truck's own. The winch began to wind upwards...at which point, Duncan suddenly discovered what it was like to climb a hill whilst not under his own steam.

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?! BOUNCING BOO-FERS! IT'S GOT MEH!"

Rusty arrived back in the yard, having been guilt tripped into doing so by their conscience, to see Duncan near the top of the incline. "I go away for FIVE minutes!" They sighed. "And here I was trying to warn him! ...Ah, this is going to be an awkward conversation to have back at the sheds."

"Never listens!" said the driver of the little diesel. He suddenly did a double take. "Oh wow, I'd have thought it would have given out before they reached top."

"Apparently not." Rusty sighed. "But you went ahead and said it, so...here we go."

And just as they finished this chat, the chain holding Duncan and the trucks decided that it couldn't take either the weight or Duncan's caterwauling anymore, and snapped.

Duncan hung for a second in mid-air a la Wile E Coyote (SUPER GENIUS) before hurtling back down at a speed that no engine his size should have been going at. "HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELPPPPP!"

There was worse to come. For some reason, the buffers on this Island were still made of wood, and not, I don't know, titanium. Considering how many times the engines crash, it would have made sense to construct them that way. But no. So when Duncan hit the buffers, they shot off into the distance. Duncan shot off into a more decisive direction.

Namely, the large muddy bank of earth.

In terms of accidents, Duncan appeared to have rather nicely topped himself.

"GLUG GLUG GLUG." He said (He was weird like that) "BUGGLE MY BOILER!"

"I shall not!" said Rusty, angrily. "Sounds dirty!"

...

"Stop looking at me with those smug faces!" snapped Duncan, after being brought back to (relatively) dry land.

"YOU-" shouted the Fat Controller, when he arrived from his meeting. "HAVE NOT BEEN A RELIABLE ENGINE! ...Is that on me, because I keep expecting you to actually learn a lesson here? ...CURSE YOU FOR MAKING ME THINK BADLY OF MYSELF. YOUR CONFUSION HAS CAUSED CONFUSION, DELAY AND A WHOLE SHIT TON OF REPAIRS!

"Can you stop shouting sir-"

"I'M NOT- I'm not shouting. You owe these engines an apology at any rate!"

"Sorry!" said Duncan through gritted teeth.

"Once you've been repaired, you'll be working the incline until you know how to be patient and careful!"

"Yes sir!" snapped Duncan.

When the incline burned down later that week, the Fat Controller reconsidered and shoved Duncan back on the sidings while he worked out how to make sure that the incline was made safe, but at a cheap price.

He had far too much on his plate already.

...

"Ah. Is this seat taken?"

"...Truro, as you well know, it isn't."

"Hah. Could never pull over your eyes." Truro rolled up opposite her, and the Duchess was forced to look at him. Following the Battle of Sodor, he had had the large faceplate that served as both mask and medical device repaired. Now, once more, his face remained hidden. But they all remembered that ugly look on his face that night. No one had been able to forget it.

They sat in silence for a time, before Truro casually remarked. "Have you ever heard of the proverb known as 'For Want Of A Nail', Duchess? ...It's been around for centuries. The first few usages date it back to around about...twelfth century I think, appropiate, really, considering that's...around about the point we started off, wasn't it? Not us specifically. But the Iron Circle."

He spoke aloud, thoughtfully

"For want of a nail the shoe was lost.  
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.  
For want of a horse the rider was lost.  
For want of a rider the message was lost.  
For want of a message the battle was lost.  
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.  
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail."

He smiled, or at least, the Duchess thought he did. "Life's like that, in a way. The arrow that killed Harold Godwin at the Battle of Hastings, the bomb that failed to kill Hitler...we live in a world now that's full of nails that we should have taken more care to examine. We thought that things would get better once we finished off the USSR and that Apartheid business, but in reality, what we've done there's coming back to hurt us majorly."

"Hurt the Americans, you mean. We're just...bystanders."

"True. Too true, in fact." Truro backed up onto a long line of trucks. "Thing is, I've been thinking about our own, for lack of a better term, nails. I've come to a conclusion. We should have prepared a back up goal for when we found the Lost Engine. And if you help me...well, this goal is going to be very worthwhile."

"I shall think on it."

"...I hope you shall. For your own sake."

The second that Truro left, the Duchess turned around.

She needed to talk with Duck. Urgently.

...

"...Well that was murder."

"Quite literally. Thought they were about to tear us apart!" Mitton wiped his brow. "So...you're owed an explanation."

"I think I am!" Hatt was stressed. The Railway Board had finally left after what felt like hours, but in reality had only been one. They had grilled all three of them on problems with costs, with merchandise graphs, with various other things that showed that the series needed to change.

"...Since the movie's failure at the box office, there's been rumblings about possibly selling the rights to filming on the Island off. At first I thought it was just that, I could maybe act as a creative consultant, while still keeping the team on. Unfortunately, things have gotten so bad that HIT Entertainment might have to take Gullane entirely. That's including all of our other properties, but the main one is the rights to Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends. Though apparently long titles confuse kids, so they're shortening it."

"Wait, so...why are they interested? The show itself continues, we still get the money-"

"Because...look, back in the eighties, when things were looking grim, we poured most of Clearwater into the Railway. Then when it changed to the Britt Alcroft Company, and then to Gullane, that grew and grew. We're talking about getting at least forty percent of your investment from our show. You yourself only hold maybe...thirty percent? And the rest of it is essentially a bunch of Barons and Earls and Lords and other such people who own various smaller parts of the railway. But the point of the matter is this. If you don't confirm the decision to sell off our...our stock, in a sense, to HIT...the railway is going to begin to suffer immensely financially."

Hatt groaned. "Shit. Shit shit shit...what's HIT like?"

"Not bad. They've got good things going on with Bob the Builder and such...but at the same time-"

"At the same time, what they have planned for the show isn't something you're going to like." Mitton spoke up for the first time. "The stuff we do with the cameras is expensive, sure. And the shots we set up with, of course they're going to cost a lot, that's the price of quality. It's the reason we did so well to begin with. But the HIT guys are nowhere near as creative or as...as versed in how to make something look good as this lot are."

"...But you have to sell?"

"I'll be sticking around as Creative Consultant for at least another season. And David is...David's leaving at the end of next series."

"Done all I can do. It's getting harder and harder to make things exciting or dynamic. ...Asquith will be taking over. He's got the right stuff, been with us from the beginning, he'll know what to do."

"...Thank you. For everything."

Edward and Duck listened to this grimly.

"This is bad."

"Very much so...but the question is, what can we do?"

Duck didn't have an answer.

* * *

Okay, so economics isn't my strongest subject. Or a subject I ever intend to take up. But still, I imagine that having forty percent of your finances gone would be a bad thing, right? Obviously, we're building up to the end of the Classic Series in more detail now. Even down to me putting my own feelings on the screen regarding how the New Series looks and feels.

Ah well.

See you next time!


	25. Episode 25: Rusty Saves the Day

Fun fact: Of all the characters from the Classic Series, I think Elizabeth is my least favorite. I find it bizarre that she gets more screen time in this season than either Salty or Harvey, and as funny as she can be, I don't think we really need another crabby asshole character. This entire episode, while good, feels a bit off. Like...ALL OF THE SKARLOEY LINE IS NOW CLOSED...what about the other engines?! Hence my approach to this episode.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Definitely! Plus, the running gag of Duncan crashing into things was one I really enjoyed writing for some reason.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Pretty much.

 **Bronze Shield:** Is that a good thing? XD.

 **Game-Watch:** Ah, knew there was a technical term to it.

 **MattPrice01:** Yeah, see, here's the thing. The Skarloey episodes this season really should have been spread out more, or at least at the beginning of the season rather than the end. Actually, that's one thing about Season 7, the balance feels much more natural and therefore less stressful. So if I'm not at my A Game on these, I apologize.

 **JD145:** That they do!

 **RadicaL Sandwiches:** Honestly, the bouncing didn't really bother me that much. I'd like it to go away, but if I have to take it, there's far worse things that could have been happening. Especially considering that this is the first thing from a new studio, there were kinks that Nitrogen and ARC had to work out of their system. I mean we're talking about a show that, for the first few seasons, had people sticking to the ground with blu-tack, so things like that really don't bother me as much. If the story's good, I'll put up with it.

 **GreatWeestern1522:** Hope you enjoy my take on it!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

Rusty is a little diesel engine who works at the quarry on the Island of Sodor.

And let me just tick off 'Generic Platitude Number 31' off my bingo card. All I need now are 'cinders and ashes' and 'Oh the indignity' and I can call out BINGO! Don't worry, it's not too late to start playing along at home. Oh, wait, wait, I lied! I forgot my 'X is my Best Friend' space! Well thank goodness I don't need to worry about that for long! Ahem.

Rusty's best friends are Rheneas and Skarloey.

Said no one ever.

However, with Duncan being...well, Duncan, and Peter Sam currently a massive ball of anger and misery, Rusty had rather been forced to join up with the two older engines, no matter how many time having to take care of Drunkloey and listen to Blaneas got old. Rusty helps keep the line clear for them, though there are some who have stated (incorrectly) that they don't work on the Skarloey Railway now...for some reason? And sometimes, Rusty works so hard clearing the line for the others that they can't do their work at the quarry.

One might assume that the Fat Controller would do something about this that didn't punish the two engines who didn't actually do anything wrong...if you didn't know the Fat Controller by this point. If you did, however, there's very little that can surprise you any more.

So when one day Rusty returned late, he was there, cross as all hell.

"Sorry, sir!" said the driver, cheerfully. "We were helping Rheneas and Skarloey! ...Skarloey fell in the lake again, and Rheneas just watched and laughed. So, you know, typical day."

"I KNOW YOU LIKE HELPING RHENEAS AND SKARLOEY!"

"No need to shout, sir."

"I'M NOT SHOU-I'm not shouting...the line is in a bad condition! It takes too much of your time!"

"EH! YOU!"

"Oh TERRIFIC! And now Elizabeth is here! Anyway! I am going to SHUT it down!"

Rusty stared at the Fat Controller in wonder. "...That's a really stupid decision, sir."

"DON'T YOU QUESTION MY CHOICES, YOUNG...DIESEL! I AM SIR TOPHAM HATT! I MAKE ONLY THE BEST CHOICES." The Fat Controller turned on his heel and walked straight into one of his many bodyguards. "AND THIS IS WHY I'M CUTTING YOUR PAY!"

"You don't pay us sir."

"SEMANTICS."

"...What will Rheneas and Skarloey do? I mean, since you're effectively closing down one of the most profitable sides of the Island's business because you're feeling petty and such?"

"DON'T BACKCHAT ME...they're coming to work with you! Yeah! That's a great idea! I'm so CLEVER!" And as he had made his mind up, there was nothing that Rusty could do other than wait for the inevitable moment of horrified realization that happened so often with Sir Topham.

...

Sure enough, the line was closed down rather unceremoniously. And so the two engines came to work at the quarry, where they promptly made Rusty's life incredibly hard to deal with. They worked as hard as they could, but they missed the forests and hills and breweries (That one was more Skarloey to be fair) and most of all, their passengers! For how else were they to earn a steady income?

Rusty was not blind, so they could see that they were not happy.

And because they really didn't need more miserable engines around them, the little diesel came up with an idea. So when the Fat Controller arrived, they put their plan into action.

"Right Rusty! We're going to blasting for the next two weeks! ...For what, I'm not sure. It's just one of those things. So...SHOVE OFF! I'll find you other work."

"How?"

"How?"

"Yes, I said how. Because you've shut down everywhere else we can go. Except for Crovan's Gate, which you still haven't cleared up yet!"

"Ah." Hatt was now keenly aware of what a big mistake he had made. And not just from the massive row with his economist who, having seen the transaction between Gullane and HIT, had nearly ended his own life there and then.

"So how about we try this on for size? We vacate this area here for you to begin the blasting. Meantime, we head back up to Skarloey and Rheneas's line, and we try and repair the line. Both of us win!"

"And there are plenty of line-workers available!" said Rusty's driver, choosing now to be helpful, for once.

"...Two weeks to complete the job!"

As they left, the Fat Controller tried very hard not to panic over the thought of what the hell would happen if they failed to complete the mission in the allotted time. He'd have no real reason to re-open the line then. He put that aside, and focused on beginning the expansion of the slate quarry. He was thinking of removing the old incline and putting in something a bit more modern. Like a lift.

He was already thinking about renaming the place too. Incline Quarry was too generic.

Now Blue Mountain Quarry, on the other hand...

...

As has been mentioned before, the damage inflicted on the line by the Battle of Sodor was catastrophic. As also mentioned before, many of the stations had had to close up shop so as to begin the restoration process. But there were still stations that were open, mostly in the mountain and valley areas. It was on those lines that the three engines set to work. Rocks and branches had covered the tracks, the result of the many storms that had happened in the past few years. The trucks were also bent out of shape, and in some cases had come apart.

And as if the next fortnight wasn't going to be hard enough, Elizabeth the Quarry Lorry had to come down and tell everyone how she thought this was a waste of her time. "WHAT A WASTE OF MY TIME!" She huffed.

Skarloey was beginning to get hungry again. "She's not wrong. In two weeks? We've got more chance of getting Duncan to the Eisteddfod than fixing this up!"

"Well we can't just give up! At least if we do our best, no one can say we couldn't try!"

At which point, the Skarloey Bridge collapsed under Rheneas's weight.

"RHENEAS! ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?!"

"...YesI'mstillalive." growled Rheneas through gritted teeth.

As they worked to get Rheneas out, the two of them worked harder than ever elsewhere. But time, as it often does, was running out. And it was only as they began to move logs from a section of track that overlooked the picnic area by Skarloey Lake that Rusty hit open a rather clever idea.

In earshot of Elizabeth, the little diesel remarked innocently. "Phew! Hot work this! If only we had a LORRY to help us." They watched in amusement as Elizabeth stopped dead in her tracks, then hurriedly backed up.

"SPEAK UP! ...I'm a quarry lorry! Can't possibly help you!"

"Ah, but it is a special kind of lorry that we need, I suppose."

"I AM A SPECIAL TYPE! ONE OF A KIND!"

"It requires hauling-"

"I can haul with the best of them!"

"-and pulling heavy branches-"

"NEVER MET A BRANCH I COULDN'T PULL! MUCH LIKE A MAN."

"-so you'll do it?"

"Of course, you idiot! I wasn't born yesterday, you know!"

"No one could ever make that mistake, madame." said Skarloey, gravely.

Over the next week or so, Elizabeth was as good as her word. While Rusty and the others worked on fixing the actual line itself, she hauled rubbish, pulled branches, fixed jams and basically was actually useful for once. She even removed a fallen sycamore tree from the Cattle Creek, which was helpful for the farmers,, and even more helpful for the engines. Tea breaks were important, after all.

"Ta, Elizabeth!" said Rusty, over their copy of the Sudrian Times. "Couldn't have done it without you!"

"I KNOW!"

"Ah, she's all right for an old bat, isn't she?"

"Said the kettle to the pot, Skarloey?"

...

The Fat Controller inspected the line. He was both impressed and relieved, massively. "Well done Rusty! And you, Elizabeth! Try not to look so smug."

"OI! WHAT ABOUT US!?"

Hatt ignored the Welsh wonders. "Now, let's get this line open!" He watched as Rusty beamed, and Skarloey and Rheneas nodded knowingly. "Maybe now you'll have time to work at the quarry!"

"Maybe now you'll actually learn to keep better care of your line!" said Rusty through a massive smile.

...

"Hi, Britt, just letting you know that there's been a slight change of plan.

For the most part, we're going to be taking over branding and such. Everything's going to be HIT Entertainment approved...save for the actual production, the company handling that is a recent offshoot of a new shareholder's own company. We have mutually agreed to work together. We get credit, he gets to fulfill a life long dream, everyone's a winner!

Uh, for the record, it's called Zed-Industries. Hope you get along! He's a real rogue!"

Britt nodded and sighed at the chairman's message.

Tomorrow was going to be the hardest sale of her life.

...

The thing that had once been 87546 looked in the mirror and sighed.

The fact of the matter was that being the Juggernaut was not something anyone should have to deal with. At least, not in the form that Truro had taken the project in. The technology itself was Soviet in origin, and considering how harsh 40's Russia was, it was impressive that the Brits had managed to make it even worse. In order for the armor to move as part of the engine, his body had to be synced up to the armor. Which meant removing things like nerves, and veins, and connecting them up to cold hard metal, so that it could truly BE an extension of himself.

And that wasn't even getting into what had happened to his face.

Truro had used him and his friend like a pair of hunting dogs. And the time had been where that had bothered him.

Not any more. Emotions were burned out now.

All that he could think of now was making sure that everything went according to plan.

What the Malignance had planned was, quite simply, breathtaking.

"Juggernaut!"

"...Sir."

"Deal with the Duchess. Permanently."

Ah.

And so the hunt began.

* * *

So yeah. A bit of foreshadowing there.

Obviously, the Incline Quarry makes several appearances throughout the next few seasons. So I'm not suggesting that it was turned into the Blue Mountain Quarry overnight, or indeed over the next year or so. But laying down the ground work is important, and is something that Thomas doesn't do much any more. Besides, once we reach CGI, it disappears near completely, so...yeah, I think it's justified.

Next time, we finish off Season 6, and after taking a quick detour into the lives of the Pack. we get down to the business of ending the Classic Era.

I'm just as sad as you are.


	26. Episode 26: Faulty Whistle

So. We're here. At last. The end of Season 6. It's a fairly decent episode to close out on, much as I would have preferred the Jet Engine or Edward the Really Useful Engine to finish it off. There's a fair bit of plot, which I will go into on the next chapter. That, by the way, will be the Pack episodes. I don't want to shove them inbetween Season 7 and 8, as I feel they rather destroy the climatic feel I'm going for, and putting them in during the HIT era is a bit too much of a clash for me. But speaking of the plot...there's going to be something in this chapter that will be a little confusing. Trust me. It will be explained in Season 7.

On another note, I was originally planning to show how the fight between Duchess and Juggernaut went, but I figured that the aftermath was more important.

And finally, yet another UK legend passed away recently, so I'm once again giving him a little shout out. Bruce Forsyth, it was nice to see you!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Indeed. This one's the best of the Skarloey Railway in Season 6 IMO.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Ahhhh, I see what you did there.

 **Bronze Shield:** Ah! I see! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

 **Game-Watch:** That's an apt comparison, actually. Except unlike Mr Krabs, this is coming back to bite him hard. And that bubble is getting really damn weak now.

 **MattPrice01:** Nah, it's cool! Yeah, there's a lot of hints of where we're going with the HIT era here. Especially in this chapter, but you'll be seeing more once we come back to Season 7 the direction we're going in.

 **JD145:** That's a complicated question right there. At present, it's not cancelled, and I've got the draft for the second part of the episode I was working on...but the problem with Tugs is that it's actually fairly aware and mature in it's humor. So really, abridging it is quite hard. It's not totally cancelled, but updates are, as you can tell, very sporadic.

 **GreatWeestern1522:** Possibly...have to think on that.

 **UGX7** : That was the reference planned! Nice spotting of it.

 **GUEST:** Awww, thank you very much!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

"...What?"

"The HIT lot are moving in already. They want us to start work on the seventh season immediately."

David was aghast. "Do...Do they realize how hard you have to work to make this stuff look good?! I mean, it's why we take a year or so off! We can't just...churn stuff out on a yearly basis, otherwise it would look a bit crap!"

"I told them that, in far more understandable and calm language, but they said that they want to capitalize. They don't want us backing out of our agreements." Britt checked her tie and tapped her hand against the arm-rest nervously. "I've got a meeting with the man in charge in an hour. This is just a quick check in. David...are you sure that you won't stay on?"

"Nah. I can't do this sort of thing annually, I need a break. Besides, one of Gerry Anderson's lot got back in contact with me, says he's got an idea for some show we can do together...get the best deal you can."

"As if I'd ever do anything less than better."

The conversation on the car phone ended there.

And so Britt stopped, and sighed.

She'd taken risks before.

Now she just had to try one last time.

...

On this early morning, Duncan was waiting as patiently as he could for Peter Sam to arrive. He had to take the green engine's trucks to Strawberry Grove. Strawberry Grove, for those wondering, was not where Strawberry Shortcake took her summer holidays, and instead was the nearest thing Sodor had to a brothel. Admittedly, the only customers appeared to be Carlin and a rather despondent Jem Cole, but somehow through those two, it had managed to stay alive come rain or shine.

Duncan was also to take Headmaster Hastings and his new organ to...I don't know, the school? No one's telling me anything. Also, there was a random school kid for some reason there who ended up pumping the organ. We're not sure why.

As they waited, Hastings played a lively tune on the organ. By lively, I mean that it made Kelly and Cranky look like Zebedee in comparison.

Duncan, however, had had the misfortune of suffering a rather nasty plastic surgery botch. Hence his horrific smile.

Peter Sam had, for whatever reason, spent most of the night bringing Duncan his wagons. He'd stopped briefly for a chat with Mr Fox and Mr Pheasant about the inevitability of death and loss, and had taken the slowest route across the Island to try and psych himself up when going against Duncan. He was approaching the Junction, and looking forward to a nice drink...when a low hanging branch decided to take out his whistle.

"WOE TO YOU, TREE! A POX ON YOU!"

And thus, Peter Sam was shoved into the siding for the time being. "Can't run on the rails without a whistle!" He said to anyone who would listen. "Or else i'd be breaking the rules and putting everyone in danger! ...And yet somehow, Duncan is allowed out every single day. Unfair."

"An engine is not an engine without yon wheestle!" said Duncan, who was in the mood to mispronounce shit like that.

Mike, somewhere buried deep in the mountains, felt a sudden feeling of deja vu for some reason.

To prove it, Duncan let out a loud blast on his whistle. Everyone was momentarily deafened for the moment, but showed remarkable self-restraint and ignored the pompous scotsman completely.

So Duncan set off, fuming terribly. "THERE'RE JEALOUS OF MAH NEW WHEESTLE!" And as he puffed through the countryside, he terrified all and sundry with his long whistling. All save the sheep, who were too busy eating grass to give a care. This angered Duncan enormously. Who were these lamb chops with legs to be dissing his whistling? And then he congratulated himself on a rather clever rhyme.

Even though, it wasn't.

...

"Well, Duncan, I've hoped you've learned a lesson from this!"

"I HAVE!"

"Good, great, that's wonderful-"

"I NEED TO WHEESTLE LOUDER!"

After briefly crashing into several large panes of glass, Duncan arrived at a level crossing. There, a briefly cross-eyed Elizabeth was taking Champion the Bull to the market. To be brutally honest, no one was sure who to feel sorrier for.

"ELIZABETH, YE OLD KRAUT! LISTEN TA THIS!"

"She's not German, Duncan." muttered the driver.

This time, Duncan whistled as long and as loud as he could. Right in Elizabeth's face. For a moment, the old lorry thought that she was having a heart attack. Then she recalled that she didn't have a heart. The bull did, and mooed. Loudly.

"Stop that nonsense, Duncan!"

But Duncan carried on cheerfully down the track. Their day now made even worse, Elizabeth and Champion continued on their merry way. What the little yellow goblin had failed to realize was that his whistle had come loose. How he didn't notice this, no one knows.

...

Then Duncan happened upon Terrance, plowing a field. And smiling. Because of course he was. "AH HA!" said the stupid Scot. "I know what I shall do! I shall wheestle at yon scary bastard! That should teach him to be depressed like tha rest of us!"

This was a flawed plan, as you can tell. Not least because while Terrance had recently begun to have the signs of a double chin, he was still quite the indimidating factor. Even when he didn't want to be.

They'd yet to find Lorry 2's body buried underneath the field.

Duncan whistled...

And whistled...

And whistled...

And whistled...

At which point, it shot off like a mighty rocket into the stratosphere. Duncan came to a harsh stop, staring around in panic. Perhaps if he could just see where it went, but to no avail.

"Oh for-"

And everyone got off to look for Duncan's whistle. As they did so, Terrance casually trundled over and stared Duncan into a near death coma for the hour the search party spent. All the while smiling pleasantly and scaring the coal out of Duncan. By the time they returned, Terrance had hurried back over to the field, leaving Duncan to regret ever having gotten up this morning.

"Well, we can't go now! It'd be too dangerous, you...you...GIT." snapped Duncan's driver.

"LEAVE IT TO ME!" said Hastings."

"...So, um, are you going to tell us your plan?"

"Nope!"

"Fair enough." And for the rest of the day, Duncan didn't make a sound...for once in his life.

But the Headmaster's organ did- TITTER YE NOT! Get your mind out of the gutter this instant! Every time Duncan had to deliver his trucks, the organ started up- STOP IT. STOP THINKING LIKE THAT. And at every crossing and junction, up went the organ! ...Just...never mind.

It worked just as well as a whistle did, though Duncan didn't think so. Especially since he was getting knowing glances from several people.

Finally, the last of the trucks was dropped off.

But the organ didn't stop. As they crossed the mountain (Which had lost quite a bit of foliage since the war and was now...lower down than it had been), She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain When She Comes blared out. Hastings's playing needed work, but he refused to let that stop him until he got back to the Junction where the other engines were waiting.

"Why look!" said Rusty, who was drunk. "It's Duncan the Musical Engine!"

"Huh. Never heard of that book before." muttered Skarloey.

"SHUT UP." said Duncan through gritted teeth.

"How about we join in the chorus!?" shouted Rheneas.

"Sounds good to me! TOOT TOOT, BOYO."

Peter Sam, now with a new whistle of his own, decided to throw Duncan a bone. Not that he deserved it, the pompous git. "You did really well, I guess, to deliver the goods without a whistle. I suppose."

"Do ye really think so?" said Duncan, doubtfully. It didn't help that Peter Sam didn't sound too convinced himself.

"Absolutely! ...Even if an engine isn't an engine without a whistle!"

"OH THROW THAT BACK IN MAH FACE WOULD YE?"

"Or an organ!" said Hastings, and played a few notes. All the engines tooted back, except Duncan who merely smiled.

"Can I go home now?" said the schoolboy, wearily. "My arms aren't half tired."

...

And so the season ended.

No one really paid much attention, however, to something that would lead the Island of Sodor into the 'New' era. It was on a small blog by the name of 'Stirling Work', which only a few people really subscribed do. The statement read in it's entirety:

 _ **OMG! Guys! GUYS. I've been invited to the Island of Sodor for some sort of trial period thing! Can't wait to appear on telly! Get your tapes ready, because it's going to be huge!**_

 _ **Hope they like drinking there as much as I do!**_

 _ **Emily.**_

...

"I say! This is absolutely corking stuff, eh, what?! I do love a good old knees up, especially when there's so many lashings of this alcoholic beverages, am I right, gentlemen?!"

"Indeed you are, Boxhill!"

"NICE TO SEE YOU, TO SEE YOU?"

"NICE!" shouted the other inebriated engines.

"Your brother's a very...interesting character, Stepney." Edward remarked, as the end of season party continued on in the same vein of it's beginning, i.e, with booze flowing significantly.

Stepney laughed. "Yes, well, he's a stupid idiot, but he's my brother. Honestly surprised he turned up, to be truthful with you. He's been handling Bluebell business for most of the last year, didn't think he'd get a chance to head down here...I think he's getting tired of it."

"Ah. So you'll be heading off then?"

"Give or take a year, Duck. Can't stay here forever. However, that 'loop line' of Fatty's...might make for a nice point of contact between our two lines."

"I'll drink to that!" said Edward, cheerfully.

Gordon was then violently sick in the corner.

"Or I would, if I didn't have to get that big lug home before he kills himself." For a moment, a flash of some unpleasant emotion raced across Edward's face, before a somewhat placid smile returned to cover it. "Drink well, you lot! ...We're going to need it."

...

The Flying Scotsman stared at the scene in horror. "Wh-What?!" His voice slipped slightly. Though they were wise enough not to show it, the other engines were far more rattled by this than what was in front of them. They had seen worse. No, the fact that _the_ steam engine was rattled was enough to make them soil themselves, if they had the ability to do so.

There were times that Truro was glad for the faceplate. It meant that the massive smirk on his face wasn't seen by anyone.

Before, when he had had the Juggernaut kill St Eustace, at the very least the body had been left in one relative piece...not so much here. The Duchess's body was spread over the course of a mile. From what could be gathered, the Juggernaut had somehow managed to tear apart her wheels, scattering them everywhere, before forcibly crushing smokebox and face underneath his own wheels.

If there was one thing to take away from this, it was that the armor still wasn't tough enough. Much to his surprise, the Duchess had put up one hell of a fight. Certainly more than Eustace had. He'd had four guards with him, yet she'd managed to injured the Juggernaut far more so than anyone ever had done.

He was going to have to note that.

"What do we do, Truro?" Scotsman sounded crushed. For a moment, something that might have been Truro's conscience poked him in the side. Then he decided that it was just a loose bit of coal.

"Well, right now...I'd start making sure that the council's completely airtight. We can't have maniacs running about and doing what have you...no, I think it's time we show the world that the Iron Circle is done taking everyone's shit."

"...What about-"

"The armor? Don't worry. I'll get right on it. Any results I find, I'll give them straight to you."

"Sah!" Boxhill hurried up, and blanched at the sight of the Duchess. "Dear god in heaven! ...What happened?!"

"The Juggernaut."

"But...he's dead!"

"I know that! Apparently he hasn't gotten the memo." Truro glanced to Scotsman. "Look, Boxy, if you could get him back home, I think we all need a moment to collect ourselves before we get our arses into gear."

"Righty-ho, old chap!" Boxhill coupled up to the silent Scotsman, and with a whistle, he began the long task of helping him back to the sheds.

Truro smirked in triumph.

...

The assembled motley crew looked at each other with distrust.

The Railway Board had gathered here under the idea that they would be getting results on the merchandise and the possibility of getting more control over the way the Island operated. The pirates were here because they were under the impression that there would be a lot of looting and fighting and many murders. So many murders. Murders out the wazoo. There were many others too, ones that we can't name for fear of slander.

And no one was quite sure what the sallow, pale man was here for.

At last, the sound of feet on steps caught their attention, and they all just sort of straightened up.

"Thank you, Miss Allcroft! Yes, the franchise itself is going to go through something of a transition period. So we will, of course, be happy for you and Mr Mitton to stay on as long as you want!" It felt like he was speaking for their benefit as well. "A pleasure doing business with you! Have a safe trip! Goodbye!" And with that, the double doors swung open.

Zero entered. Clean shaven, clean cut, clean suit, overall clean, he strode in with a confident and cocky swagger. "Nice to see ye, to see ye?"

"...Nice?" answered the room.

"Good answer!" He coughed. "Whoops. Slipped back into the natural accent for a moment."

"...Why are we all here, sir?" Reginald asked, nervously. "And who is that?"

Captain Zero glanced back at the other man. The older, gnarled, grim looking man, wearing a sort of stereotypical harbormaster cosplay. "This? Oh, he's quite 'll get to him in a bit. Now, let's fucking get down to business."

He looked around the room and quickly began to talk. "You are here for various reasons. The gentlemen of the Railway Board, to get control of their railway back. My faithful lads, to murder and pillage, as in the old days. Those of you who came from the Other Railway, you want jobs and homes back. And this man-" He pointed to the sallow figure, who glanced at him knowingly. "-this, all of you, is J.D. My spymaster. The one responsible for all of this. Without him, we'd not be having this chat today. I'd still be scrounging for information on what it is I want to know."

"J.D?" One of the Railway Board turned and spoke at once. "NOT-"

"Drampf. Jasper Drampf. My father worked here some time ago, his death was...was quite tragic, really. All the fault of the Sudrians of course." J.D spoke with little inflection or emotion.

Zero continued. "Now, most of you here will have a rough idea of what it was that I used to do. Namely, work for a man who thought far too highly of himself and paid the price for it. At first, I considered throwing in the towel, forgetting the idea of taking over the world and going back to the old way of doing things...and then I realized something. The Fat Director failed precisely BECAUSE he stuck to the old ways of doing things. He overstretched the use of runes and complicated plans that spanned centuries, when in reality, had he just had the foresight to recognize his opponent's weakness and capitalized on them...well, we'd be having a far different conversation right now. But he didn't, so we're not."

He glanced around the room. "I've had to change a lot about myself over the last three years. My accent, for one. My dress sense for another. My attitude when talking to people, the type of business I conduct...but one thing that hasn't changed is my objective. I want to be on top of everyone and be in a position where no one can do without me. And I want to become very, very rich while doing so. I think we're all in agreement on THAT point. I will not go into the plan specifically at this point...but I can guarantee this."

He pulled out a large blueprint. "Over the next ten years or so, we are going to systemically destroy the Island of Sodor's reputation, it's industry...and eventually, itself in it's entirety. And by the time this escapade is over, we are going to be in a very, very successful minority."

He smiled. "And do you know how we're going to do it? Let me introduce you to my son. You might know him under another name. A name that has come to mean terror for all upon the high seas. A name that is more than worthy to, one day, become the heir to the title of Captain Zero. A name that, though simple, will no doubt be recognizable to you all. The name...of Sailor John."

 **TO BE CONTINUED.**


	27. The Pack Episode 1: Oliversauras

This is going to be fairly light. No story at all, save for a linking story about the Pack on their way to the BAFTA's, which should be fun, I think. Also, for sake of variety, we'll be using the intended titles as opposed to the ones HIT slapped on when these were released. Hence Oliversauras instead of a Visit From Thomas.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Agreed! Hence the reference to Mike in the mountain.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Things are picking up. For that matter, we're going to be addressing the Duchess of Hamilton thing soon enough, don't you worry.

 **Bronze Shield:** When we get to Season 7, it's my intent to explain the change in attitude. He's definitely far more confident without the Fat Director around, but how and why? That's going to be interesting.

 **Game-Watch:** To say nothing of his emotional state.

 **MattPrice01:** Again, as I will mention many times throughout these thirteen episodes, we'll get more into that in Season 7. Needless to say, there is an explanation.

 **JD145:** ;D

 **GreatWeestern1522:**

 **UGX7** : Fixed! And as to the age of Zero...well, we'll be getting into that in Season 7. With regards to Terrance, I do have a plan regarding that, which you'll have to wait and see. Mitton will be mourned when we get to the appropriate time and place, because we kinda have to pay tribute to him. I hope you like my interpretation of her!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Yep!

 **Hughie96:** Be prepared for some more stuff with Truro in the coming season. And yes, there will be an explanation for what the hell's going to happen now. I hope you think the wait is worth it! Ta, mate.

CUE THE...lee than impressive theme music.

* * *

"Oh for god's sake!"

The Pack looked blearily at the long, long line of traffic in front of them. To the left of them? Traffic. To the right of them? Traffic. Behind them? Open space! ...No, just kidding! Traffic.

"SO THIS WAS A GREAT PLAN ON YOUR PART, OLIVER."

"Oh shut up, Jack."

Isabella looked grim. "We're not getting to the BAFTA's, are we?"

"Nonsense! OF COURSE WE WILL!" Nelson was enraged by the idea of being left behind. "We're winning the best ensemble award! It's not going to Bob the ruddy Builder AGAIN!"

"So how do we do this?" Kelly cut in.

No one had any answer for that.

...

A YEAR AGO.

It was a-

Ohhhhhhhh god. THIS AGAIN? Really?!

So it's a pretty decent day on the Island of Sodor let's just move on with this stuff. Thomas had managed to whine his way into appearing in all thirteen episodes of this show (Or at the very least, having someone he knew be in this show) and was thus taking the Fat Controller to the plot convinient area. I'm sorry, I've got the sarcastic script here. I meant the 'new school building site'.

Oddly enough, located right where Drampf's house had been. The way things worked out was interesting like that. The Fat Controller had even given the land to the school, because he was feeling generous one day and decided that this seemed like a good idea.

The Pack were doing their thing. Jack was running around like an overeager Jack Russell screaming at everyone, Kelly was waiting for the release of death, Isabella was...there, Alfie was being stupid, Oliver was smoking the latest drug (Called the 'Busting Boiler Special') in the pit and Buster was-

Hmm? Who's Buster?

You know who Buster is! He's always been there! We're not just randomly introducing new characters left and right? That's not going to be confusing at all.

All right. Buster was the Steamroller for the Pack. And he was...okay. A bit dim, but not as dim as Ned. Or Jack.

"THE SCHOOL IS A PROPER USE FOR THIS LAND!" said the Fat Controller over the chaos and noise of the building site. "Much better than that crack den idea that Carlin had! Imagine if that was the case, Miss Jenny!"

"Yes, Toppers! Of course... Who wants to be happy, eh?"

"What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing. Let me show you the football field!" Miss Jenny led him away towards another part of the site. "Of course, I wanted a fecking lacrosse playing area, but apparently the wee brats don't play that anymore! Ha! Now in my day-"

Hatt drifted off, ignoring Jenny's rant about how her 'gels' back in her old boarding school had nown the true value of sports. He'd heard this rant so often he could practically quote it off by heart.

Buster was having a wonderful time rolling the earth flat. "Oh boy, look at me rolling the earth flat." He said.

Byron, locked into battle with his arch enemy The Old Oak Tree, was not so cheerful. "GET A SHIFT ON!" He snarled. "We've got ACTUAL work to do!"

"Hey hey, no need to be so brutal, my man." said Buster, who thought himself a soul brotha, but in reality was actually more offensive than anything. "We just need to chill! Be like Oliver!"

"OH MY GOODNESS WHY ARE THE GNOMES COMING TO GET ME!?" wailed Oliver, currently twice as high as he normally was.

"It'll be a grand football field, in any case!" Jenny was still sulking that no one had taken her suggestion of lacrosse seriously.

"Grand." said the Fat Controller, who wanted to go home and have tea.

...

"DIG DIG DIG DIG! YEAH YEAH YEAH! DIGGGGGGIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGG!"

"Ah. And this must be...Not-Muck." said Hatt, as he watched Alfie happily dig away at the foundations.

"He prefers the name Alfie."

"I'm sure he does. But that's not what I'm going to call him. Why are we digging trenches for the library?"

"Oh, we don't have enough money to actually build a library, so we're just going to shove a bunch of books down there and throw the kids in every so often."

"Ah. Just as Tom Brown intended."

"Ah go ta hell with ye! It'll be a good library!"

"Splendid." said the Fat Controller, who wanted more than ever a cream bun.

As they walked away, they decided to ignore the slight 'clink' and the far louder 'boom' as Alfie accidentally detonated a world war two mine.

...

"And this will be the swimming pool!"

"...Then why are Oliver and Max in that hole five miles from it?"

"...FOR GOD'S SAKE! GET IT TOGETHER, LADS!"

"I SEE THE END OF THE WORLD!" proclaimed Oliver. He had to dig very carefully to make sure that the hole had straight sides.

"All swimming pools must have straight sides!"

"Yes." said Hatt, who honestly could not care less at this point. And after this last little show of lunacy, he hurried off to Annie and Clarabel, got in and proceeded to eat himself to near death on his way home. It was the happiest he had been all day.

Max, meanwhile, was becoming impatient. "Eyyyyyyyy! Get a move on, you slowpoke! Gotta go fast! Gonna rock and roll all over the joint! WASSUP! ...with all the time you're taking?!"

Oliver would not be hurried. He was coming down on his high HIS way damn it, and he was going to dig carefully while he was at it. And to show this, he brought his shovel down with a loud clunk.

Only part of that was down to the force he hit the ground with.

Oliver's eyes widened. "Ohhhhh no! I'VE KILLED SOMEONE! I CAN'T GO TO JAIL AGAIN, MAX! NOT AGAIN!" He slowly scraped away at the side, while Max wondered if he could get moved over to join Bob the Builder properly. As far as he recalled, they hadn't got a truck in yet...so he might be in with a chance.

"Hurry up!"

"BUT I'VE FOUND SOMETHING!"

"Is it happiness?"

"No, but-"

"Then it's rubbish!"

"It might be important!" said Oliver's operator, who had really wanted the crack den to be built.

"Right right, yeah, sure. I'll call Miss Jenny. I want to go home." said the foreman, who hated his life with a passion. He called Miss Jenny, who called the Fat Controller, who called a doctor as he had was unable to get out of the carriage door, who called a fire engine to help get said Controller out of the carriage, who called a therapist, who ended up having to call two boffins in. It was a very stressful set of incidents.

"They got real thin heads, ain't they?" said Isabella to Max later about the scientist. Max didn't care, he wanted to go home and write poetry about the state of the world. Very whiny poetry.

"AMAZING!" said the expert with the red mustache and odd solitary patch of hair.

Then he stopped looking at his partner's drawing of a penis and then glanced at Oliver's find. "Oh, and that's pretty decent too, I guess. Looks like a dinosaur."

Byron was unimpressed. The Old Oak Tree had kicked his arse, and he was therefore a little cranky.

"What is a DYE-NO-SAW" asked Ned, who was feeling in particularly stupid form today.

"Dinosaurs are fecking large creatures that roamed the earth. Like Topham here, except able to exercise self-control."

"Jenny!" said a rather embarrassed Fat Controller.

"Well Oliver!" said the expert with the fuzzy beard and the very thin head. "How about some more digging?"

"SURE THING GUVNOR!" said Oliver, now convinced that he was in a typical British cop show.

...

Soon the experts had roped off the area, with the other three vehicles watching the action with the most bored expressions ever put to film. Oliver quickly put on his most delicate chisel, as this called for some delicate digging.

...So why the hell Oliver was here, we'll never know.

But soon, he found some more bones, that of a Triceratops. "Ooooh!" he said, in his own head seeing a fellow smoker of the drugs. And some more bones and some more bones and some more bones-

Whoops, forget to take the needle off the record for a second.

Elsewhere, Ned called out Go Fish. Unfortunately, the rest of the Pack were playing Snap instead, so he didn't win.

Eventually, Oliver had uncovered the entire skeleton of a dinosaur. And everyone cheered.

Well, they made an attempt. It sounded very bored, which to be fair, was about fair for people in this situation. "THIS IS AN IMPORTANT DAY FOR THE ISLAND OF SODOR!" said the Fat Controller, who was practically propped up by his two bodyguards. "SO IMPORTANT THAT WE WILL _LITERALLY_ NEVER TALK ABOUT THIS AGAIN!"

"Thanks to Oliver's careful digging!"

"HOLY SHIT I'M GOING TO EAT THE SKY!"

"Makes me proud, yeah yeah yeah, to be a excavator! I'm in this episode, yeah yeah yeah! WHOO! DIIIIIGGIIIIIING!"

"Shut up, Not-Muck!"

A man with a camera stormed up, took Oliver's picture and stormed off again. It was very random, no one was sure what he was even doing on a construction site. Safety first apparently went right the hell out the window.

...

The next day, Thomas brought the Fat Controller to the yardch.

Oh, you think that's a typo? No, go back and listen to the episode proper! Listen to the way he pronounces that word! Tell me it doesn't at least sound like that's what he's saying!

"It seems we have a celebrity here!"

"IT'S OLIVER!"

"Ta Ned. Nothing wrong with your eyes! And no, he's talking about ME of course!" Thomas beamed.

"Oh shut up, it's not your spin-off!"

"Be honest sir, it practically is."

Oliver would have smiled happily, but he was too busy starting the long, long, LONG come down process.

There would be worse to come.


	28. Episode 2: Jack Owns Up

**AaronCottrell97:** Agreed. If they had made more episodes, it'd be fine, I think.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Pretty much it.

 **Bronze Shield:** Bob the Builder is a bit like Thomas, in that it's more a documentary about real life person Bob, and his machine crew, that's been edited down. They are significantly less violent and sweary than Thomas the Tank Engine. And more competent. No one can explain what the fuck Spud is, mind.

 **Game-Watch:** Eh, I wouldn't go as far as to say that. Incompetents, more like. Then again, which one is worse is up to you.

 **MattPrice01:**. Probably! XD.

 **JD145:** I think a YAY is in order!

 **UGX7** : Eh, it's...complex with Carlin. When we get to it, you'll see what happens. I hope.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** He's a real hard ass.

CUE THE...lee than impressive theme music.

* * *

"AREN'T YOU GLAD THAT WE'RE YOUR FRIENDS, THOMAS?"

"First of all, no. Second of all, we are not friends, we are barely acquaintances! Thirdly, HOW MUCH AM I GETTING PAID FOR THIS?!"

Thomas's friends-

"GAAAAAAAAAH!"

-were being helped along by the little blue prat to the WAREHOUSE. ...Sorry, had to try and add a little bit of tension in there. Or any. The warehouse, despite it's somewhat blunt name, was not where all construction vehicles go to die, but was instead just a very bland and run of the mill house.

Jack, as he was for most things, was excited to get to work. "HURRY THOMAS!" He bellowed, right into the tank engine's face. "WE GOT SHIT TO DO."

"Oh you can go straight to 'Screw Yourself' avenue!" said Thomas, who was in another of his very bad moods.

"Ignore him, yeah yeah yeah! Jack's always high on sugar and a demanding so and so!"

"Oh what, and you aren't?"

"I'm not on sugar! I'm on SPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-"

"Um, Alfie?" Thomas asked in concern.

"-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-"

"GROUND CONTROL TO MAJOR NOT-MUCK!?"

"-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEdddddddddddddddd." At which point, Alfie shut down temporarily.

...

Soon Thomas had delivered Jack and Alfie to the Warehouse, and demanded a large check for all his hard work and effort. The workmen, having to work with Jack and Alfie on a regular basis, sympathized and paid the money up straight away. Miss Jenny, meanwhile, warned the machines about the very busy site.

"LISTEN UP YOU FECKING WIMPS!"

"Oh yeah, you can tell this is going to be constructive." murmured Isabella to Kelly.

"Pun intended?"

"...Shut up."

"If you kill me, I'll shut up foreve-"

"No."

"Awww."

"This is a bloody busy site, all right!? BE. RUDDY. CAREFUL. I don't want to have to get fierce on ye and throw down, but if I have to, I will! You hear?" She glared at the foreman. "Get to it, small dick!"

Small Dick, or Small Richard as was his actual name, coughed and nervously muttered. "Uh, anyone caught screwing around is getting sent back to the yard post haste. Please can you stop insulting me now, marm?"

"Hmmmmm...NAH."

Ned was worried. He sometimes (Read: Always) cause accidents. And not the humorous kind that people could laugh off. Unless you're a sadist or something which...I don't know, I'm sure there's some people out there who are reading this and laughing. Right? Right? You're laughing? ...ANSWER ME DAMN IT-

...

ACTUAL EXISTENTIAL BREAK.

...

Ahem ...Just...Just ignore what happened.

Ned's banksman could see that he was worried. "Don't worry! I shall make sure that you don't back into anything! They don't call me Hawkeye Norris for no reason, y'know?"

"I didn't even realize he had a name." muttered Kelly to Isabella.

"Same. I think they just get them off an assembly line."

Most of the machines, when they got down to it, were working very, very carefully. Even Oliver, despite apparently being in the midst of a mental breakdown where he stared up into the sky with a slack jawed grin plastered across his face. Byron, meanwhile, was just glad that the Old Oak Tree had not followed him into this busy industrial area.

Byron had yet to realize that the Old Oak Tree was, in fact, a figment of his imagination. ...OR WAS IT- Yes. Yes it was.

Ned's banksman was actually doing his job for once, and guided him around every corner with great care. "WHAT FUN!" said Ned, idiotically inviting Karma to strike down upon him with great power and speed.

And as per usual, Jack was...well, being Jack. He was having fun, but being about as careful as a bull with a jet pack attached to his hindquarters, blindfolded and in some sort of strange, bizarre, especially brittle china palace.

In short, he was about to get into trouble.

"Slow down! You'll get into trouble! Or if you can't, END MY LIFE NOW!"

Jack ignored Kelly. Everyone ignored Kelly. "NOT ME!" said the red idiot. And all began to count down mentally from ten. Even Thomas, who was by this point so bored out of his mind, was counting down. He really hoped Jack wouldn't make a mistake. He didn't want to have to put up with the frontloader for more than was strictly necessary.

Around about the point that everyone assembled got to three, Jack rounded a bend sharply. Around about the two mark, he raced towards a large pile of gravel. And when they got to one, he backed down, harshly.

Right into a large pile of roofing slate.

Well, you can guess what happened next.

Jack's bankman, by the by, was currently face down in the mud, weeping softly for the fall of man and construction vehiclekind. In retrospect, why he wasn't doing his job is anyone's guess. Somehow, NO ONE had seen the mistake. Which if you think about it, is the Island of Sodor in a nutshell. A lunatic runs around screaming at everyone breaks something, and everyone's too apathetic to notice and/or care.

Or in the case of Oliver, who was still doing...whatever the hell it was he was doing, too high.

Jack knew he'd done a boo-boo, but being sent back to the yard was booooooring. And thus, he filled up his bucket and headed away, whistling innocently the whole time.

"Hi Jack!" said Isabella.

"WHAT SLATE DO YOU SPEAK OF?" said Jack, shiftily looking this way and that.

Isabella ignored him.

...

Seconds later, Hawkeye Norris, the fastest banksman in the west, noticed that one of the bollards was not in the correct position it should have been. As he turned to fix it, he waved his hand for Ned to move forward.

Big mistake.

At the loud crunch of Ned's caterpillar tracks smashing the slate to even tinier pieces, Hawkeye turned as if in slow motion. "NNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDD." he bleated. "STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP/"

Ned had, by this time, reduced the slate to less than dust. So this really didn't accomplish much in the grand scheme of things.

"YOU FOOL! You've knocked over that slate!"

"Wasn't me!" wailed Ned. "Didn't do it! I swear on Kelly's life!" He paused. "Wait, hang on, that's a terrible thing for me to swear on-"

But it was no use. There was nothing Ned could do, and so the banksman had to report the incident to Miss Jenny. Which if you think about it, proves that the true enemy of the Pack is the Banksman system.

"It's not fair!" said Ned, as a lone saxophone player highlighted just how unfair it was in the distance. Alfie pulled up besides Jack just as Ned drove away. He was covered from head to toe in muck, having decided to see if he could dig his way to Australia. He had only managed to get as far as the Earth's Core before work had been halted.

"WHERE'S NED GOING?" asked Jack.

"He's going back to the Yard because he screwed up! Thomas is taking him back! LET'S GET MUCKY- wait, that's...the other show."

After Miss Jenny had finished burying the body of Hawkeye Norris, she began to make gestures towards Ned that might have been suggestions of how to get on the flatbed, or might have been suggestions of what would happen if Ned crossed her the same way Hawkeye had. It was hard to tell with her. And it was all Jack's fault.

What do you, the viewers at home, think Jack should do?

.

.

.

WELL?

ANSWER ME DA-

...

ACTUAL EXISTENTIAL BREAK

...

"Where are you going, Cotton Eyed Jack?!"

But Jack ignored Alfie and his silly and bizarre references to other things, and rolled over. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIITTT!" He bellowed, using every ounce of acting that his coach had managed to impart into him before leaving to become a monk somewhere far away from construction vehicles. "STOP! THAT! TRAIN!"

"I'm not leaving." said a very weary Thomas.

"NED DIDN'T BREAK THE SLATE! ...I MEAN, TECHNICALLY, HE DID, WHEN HE RAN OVER IT AGAIN! BUT TWAS NOT HIM WHO DID BREAK THE SLATE IN THE FIRST PLACE, IT WAS ME! LOCK ME UP! THROW AWAY THE KEY! TAKE AWAY MY LIBERTY-"

"It's not Shakespeare, Jack." said Thomas, drolly. "It's a spinoff show. Odd time to start giving a rat's arse. And did the entire two part episode thing you were in not clue you in?"

"OH LIKE YOU'RE ONE TO TALK, MR SNOWPLOW."

"...Fair enough."

One recap later, Miss Jenny was cross. "It was brave of you to own up, but what am I to do with you, you fecking prat!?"

"SEND ME BACK!"

At which point, the inevitable murder investigation was postponed when Hawkeye arose from the ground, injured but alive.

...

"SORRY NED! I SHOULD HAVE OWNED UP EARLIER!"

"That's all right! Forgiven and forgotten! ...What are we talking about? Ah, who cares! I'm just glad IT WASN'T ME!" And as Ned swung around like a maniac, he nearly completely demolished a nearby water tower.

Miss Jenny sighed, and decided to drink herself to sleep.

Thomas groaned and read off the cue cards. "Well done, Jack. I am so proud of you. And heartwarming statements."

And all the way back to the yard, Jack felt good. He knew he had done the right thing.

...

PRESENT DAY.

"I'M GOING TO WRECK IT!"

The pileup had now become a monster truck rally in disguise, as Byron and Alfie attacked the cars furiously. No one was going to stop them getting to the awards. The others merely watched, and wondered why it was that this was their life.

"I hope no one's in those cars." remarked Kelly.

"Yeah." Isabella agreed. "it wouldn't be good PR...oh, and it's morally wrong."

"Want to remember when we first got Patrick the Prat?"

"OH YES!"

"Sounds like a good way for these parts to bookend this action." agreed Nelson.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing. Just...getting metatextual."


	29. Episode 3: Importance of Being Patrick

This is the best episode of the Pack thus far! Also, those of you who are in the UK might recognize the cameos in the 'present day' scenes, as they were. But a quick internet search should tell you who they are if you don't know.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Thomas is the best part of these, I agree! It's fun watching him be the straight man for once.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : That might be more accurate than you may think. XD.

 **Bronze Shield:** They will, actually! At the end of this mini-season. If the Pack ever make it to the BAFTA's.

 **Game-Watch:** That is entirely correct. Why do you think they're asleep half the time on the job?

 **MattPrice01:**. :D

 **JD145:** Ta! And I fixed it, so don't worry!

 **UGX7** : Appreciated! A lot!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** NOT A CLUE MATE. NOT A CLUE.

 **The Nerdinator:** It's maaaaaaagic.

 **Hughie96:** Yeah, I'm actually interested in seeing if I can do those moments justice. I do want to show that there is a nicer side to these guys. But, who knows? Keep reading, dude!

CUE THE...lee than impressive theme music.

* * *

It was a simmering summer's day on the Island of Sodor...oh look, for once, a bit of description that isn't cut and pasted from another twenty episodes! What are the odds of that happening? ...He asks, while sitting in a shithole recording booth with no air conditioning.

Oh, apparently I'm not allowed to mention that. Continuing onwards, then!

The Fat Controller had sent Thomas to help Jack and Co at their latest building site. One would wonder why not send another engine who didn't have anything going on his life to do the work, such as Edward, or Henry, or even at a pinch, Derek. But no. Thomas he wanted, and Thomas he got. He got the wonderful job of watching Jack and Alfie put soil in his trucks. Truly, a great and wonderful thing to be doing on this summer's day.

This was the area for foundations of the New Community Center. Mayor Bedella had ordered that everyone get together more after the unfortunate 'Molotov Cocktail Incident of 2002' burnt down a nearby hotel. One where Allcroft and Mitton had been staying at, actually.

Patrick was a mixer. He was also a complete nhilist. He differed from Kelly in that while Kelly only cared about killing himself, Patrick wouldn't have minded EVERYONE dying. Preferably in painful ways. And as he poured the concrete(Which looked surprisingly delicious, by the way), he was reflecting on how brutally short life was.

Fun times for all!

"ROASTING RADIATORS IT'S HOT!" said Jack. "SO HOT THAT IT'S MAKING ME SAY STUPID ALLITERATING CATCHPHRASES LIKE 'ROASTING RADIATORS'."

"Makes my boiler ache." said Thomas. He wasn't talking specifically about the weather. More in a general sense of being HERE. At this moment.

"Out of the way, young uns! The most important person in this hollow, shapeless, pointless world of ours is coming through!"

"WHAT MAKES YOU SO IMPORTANT?" chuffed Jack, who was basically waving a red flag at a rather distressed bull at this point.

"CONCRETE. It is the future! It is the past! It is all that we are and all that we will become! The universe will burn and we will burn with it into endless nothingness. Concrete is nothingness! We shall BECOME the concrete."

Talks of nothingness and universes burning were too big a concept for Alfie to take in now. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, whateves, loser! We're important too! Because we DIG!"

Patrick didn't care. Thomas sympathized with this, and only this. "Well I am the MOSTEST important in this cruel world of lies and illusion!" And off he raced. Thomas was beginning to wonder if the Pack were mentally well.

"He's a bit...ah...of a dick? ...No, not good enough? Oh, too vulgar, Mr Cameraman? Fine. He's a bit cheeky. Bit like James. There. I'm done for now. Great! Let me just go get something to drink. Yeesh, you lot could drive an engine to snort glue, you could."

"My FAVORITE PASTIME!" slurred Oliver in the corner. But unbeknownst to all of them, Jack and Alfie's buttons had been pressed. Who was the most important? One thing everyone agreed on was this.

It sure as shit wasn't Ned.

...

Jack, for some reason, couldn't wait to ask Byron. Byron was keeping a watchful eye out for anything and everything that even resembled a certain...well, you've probably caught on to what it is now.

"IS PATRICK THE MOST IMPORTANT?"

"Patrick? Most important? PAH! AS IF! Until I level the site, he can't do jack-squat!"

"I CAN'T SQUAT ANYWAY." said Jack, who was very stupid.

"...I'm going to ignore you. I am the most important if that is the ca-DID THAT TREE JUST MOVE!? So...it's a cold war, you want, eh, forest? I CAN WAIT! I can wait forevvvvvvvvvvvver."

...

Alfie, meanwhile, had made a beeline for Oliver, who was currently wondering if the sky was meant to be eating up the sun, or whether or not that was just his warped perspective on the thing. "OLLIE OLLIE OLLIE!"

"Oi oi oi! Now slow down, what's got you racing around in this heat!? When you could be taking it-" He inhaled sharply before continuing "-sloooooooooow."

"Yeah yeah yeah, no one cares, Patrick says he's the most important! He's a buttmunch, right? Yeah yeah yeah? It's not true, is it"

"Oh...my...noooooooo..." said Oliver, who's mind was going slower than a snail at this point. "Digging...the...foundations is the...moooooooost important...and that's what...I...do."

"But I did the foundations as well?" said a very confused Alfie.

"Well NO ONE GIVES A HOOT!" said Nelson, the very loud and jerkish lorry. "TRANSPORT! Without that there would be NOTHING. NADDA. NILCH. NO WORK AT ALL! And that's why I'm the big cheese and you're just a weakling!"

"THANKS, NELSON!" said Jack, unaware that he had just been insulted.

"Banksmen!" said Ned, whom had recognized that whoever was the important, it wasn't Ned. "They keep us safe and warm! They're the most important! ...Can I please join the cool kids club now?"

"We'll think about it!" said Hawkeye, who silently mouthed "No way" to the rest of the banksmen.

...

"I GIVE UP!" said Jack.

"No no no, they can't be the most important!" snapped Alfie, like a kid who has been denied sugar after a ten hour rush on the stuff. And as Thomas drew back in from his drink break, he could see everyone was having a paddy on about who was the most important. Even Max and (Suddenly-introduced-out-of-the-blue-never-before-seen-twin-brother) Monty! ...Why that is a surprise to anyone who has watched previous episodes with Max in them, I don't know.

"I'm the most important!" said Max, doing an impressive Diesel impression.

"NO WAY BRO! I AM!" said Monty, who was just as much a pain in the ass as his brother. "I can haul more in less time than anyone else!"

So, one thing lead to another and they were soon trying to one up each other on the load situation...look, that gutter you're in? Get your mind out of there! Max went to Ned to give him a big load- TITTER YE NOT. I can see you there. "MORE!" demanded Max.

Monty, meanwhile, had gone to Oliver to complain about how Max was- You know what, I'm beginning to see that I might be fanning the flames a little. "MORE!" bellowed Monty.

"I think that's enough." said Oliver, who knew how to tease the trucks until they were on the verge of blowing...up. Okay, that one was on purpose by me. Sorry.

"MORE AND HURRY!" said Monty...and this is now 'The Pack-XXX Edition' starring- What do you mean, that's too risque even for this thing? ...Fine. Spoilsport.

"If you say so!"

Monty shot off like a cork from a bottle the second that the last of the dirt was shoved in.

"Max! Monty! Stop, police, murder!" said Kelly, who had just now turned up after having been talked down from drowning himself in concrete by Isabella. "Slow down!"

"Oh, here we go." said Thomas, who was already wearing his special 'splatter proof' coat for this moment in particular. Luckily for him, the two sped past him. "All right! Take off the COAT!"

Max and Monty rocked and rolled along the road, smacking each other around.

"I'm in front!"

"No you're not!"

"Yes I am!"

"WASSUP WITH THAT!?"

"WASSUP WITH YOUR FACE?!"

This, and other incredible insults, kept on coming out of their mouths until they reached a bend in the road where Patrick was returning from preaching about the 'END OF EVERYTHING' and how it would involve a giant white wave destroying the world until all that was left was concrete. He was very obsessed. And then he registered their presence. "LOOK OUT!"

"LOOK OUT YOURSELF!" wailed Max and/or Monty.

Patrick swerved to avoid the two of them. Unfortunately, his driver was apparently incapable of using that thing called 'a brake' and thus, Patrick sailed over the embankment. Thomas looked up in time for Patrick to land face first into the wet concrete, which looked...less delicious now.

"Oh. Of course." said Thomas, who was now used to getting splattered.

"Ohhh. Flatter my fenders."

"Uhhh."

The two trucks were silent for a moment.

"Not my fault!" sneered Max (or Monty, I forget.)

"Yes it was!"

"No it wasn't!" his brother snapped back.

And thus they continued arguing until they were back with the Pack, and the fitter had to stop them by slapping them across the face.

"MY BEAUTIFUL CONCRETE!" wailed Patrick.

"MY BEAUTIFUL PAINTWORK!" moaned Thomas.

"MY SAINTED, TWENTY POUND ARSE, WHAT THE FECK IS HAPPENING HERE?!" said Miss Jenny.

...

"I go away for THREE HOURS AND YE KLUTZES SCREW IT UP! Ye two! I'm disappointed for some reason! Because I know that ye pull this shit ALL THE TIME! ALL. THE. TIME. Ye've caused an arseton of trouble! Look at Thomas! He's going to be a whiny little bitch for the rest of the day now! Ye're shoving off back to the Yard before I pick ye up with my bare teeth and carry ye there myself!"

"We were only trying to show who was the most important." said Max, picking now of all times to speak up.

"YER ALL PART, OR SUPPOSEDLY ARE, PART OF A TEAM! NO ONE IS MORE IMPORTANT! Except for Jack, who's getting his name on the spin off, and Ned, who is beneath all of ye!"

"And I'm okay with that!" said Ned.

"NOT EVEN PATRICK?!" asked Jack.

Jenny turned to Patrick. "Were ye giving them that FANNY about CONCRETE?!"

"...S'not fair...might have said something!"

...

PRESENT DAY.

"And how we LAUGHED!" said Nelson, grinning at a very grumpy Patrick.

"Okay, so what's the plan here?" asked Isabella, as Team Wreck It returned with the news that they had not, in fact, managed to get them to the BAFTA's on time. "Because they start in...an hour. So what are we going to do?"

At which point, three reasonably priced cars raced past them, followed by one driven by a tame racing driver.

There was a pause.

"Well we follow them! Obviously!" said Nelson.

...

"James?"

"Are you calling to say 'Your choice was better, James', because if not, then piss off."

"First of all, I would never say that. Second of all, look in your rear view mirror."

"Oh what? Is it Jeremy- WHAT? ...Are those construction vehicles?"

"Yes."

"With faces?"

"Yes."

"And are they trying to race Jeremy and the Stig?"

"Yes."

"...Buckle up, Hammond."


	30. Episode 4: Scaredy Scaredy

What this mini-season has taught me is that I could stick Peter Sam next to the Pack and he'd somehow come across as the most sane and logical person there. Today it's Percy's job to be the straight man. For those of you who are getting bored of this, I beg you to just stick through it for this little section. This is just so that I can get this over with, and I can go back to focusing on proper Thomas stuff.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Indeed! I'm glad you liked the cameo!

 **Reality Rejection Service** : He's becoming his father!

 **Bronze Shield:** HA! Just put it in because this is really just a silly bit of idiocy before things GET...SERIOUS BUT STILL SILLY AT THE SAME TIME.

 **Game-Watch:** THE CONCRETE IS GOOD.

 **MattPrice01:** That it would! That it would!

 **JD145:** We are! Hopefully in the next one, seeing as there's little to no room here in this chapter.

 **UGX7** : That's actually an interesting point. I never thought of it that way.

 **Hughie96:** HA! Thanks, mate!

CUE THE...less than impressive theme music.

* * *

THE PRESENT.

BEEP BEEP.

Jeremy Clarkson glanced out of the window and looked the bulldozer dead center in the eye. "Now this-" he told the camera "-is probably the sturdiest car...in the world! And therefore, I shall not back off and let this yob in tight trousers threaten me. Besides, he hasn't experienced my POWER-"

There was a loud crunching noise, as the back half of Jeremy's car came apart.

Clarkson immediately began to scoot away at the exact opposite of breakneck speed. Elsewhere, Hammond and May had realized that they needed to fulfill the Top Gear oath of loyalty and fidelity to one's fellow presenter, and had rushed away as fast as they could.

"Why did you do that for?!" snapped Isabella.

"HE MOCKED ME!" bellowed Byron. "He gave me the bird! BESIDES! ...I'm bored!" And with that, he began to chase after Jeremy in one of the strangest chases ever put to film. Adding the Benny Hill theme would actually make it seem more epic than it actually was.

Meanwhile, Max and Monty were heckling someone else entirely.

"OI! YOU! WHITEY!"

"You look ridiculous!"

"Wearing that jumpsuit in this heat!"

"Are you trying to slim down, fatty!? Is that a Slim Suit you're wearing!? HA! It's funny because you're-"

The Stig looked at Max and Monty. Just looked at them. The two trucks screamed and began to weep for their immortal souls. The Stig got back into his car, turned up his CD of Turkish Acoustic Accordian players and drove off in search of the other three dimwits.

"You've got to teach me your ways." said Patrick, admiringly, as the car pulled off.

...

A few minutes later, Richard and James ate their pies and watched as a seething Clarkson made his way over to the small cafe. He sat down, out of breath from having to actually use his legs in something that didn't involve pushing down pedals and collapsed backwards. "You...You...You bellends!"

"Hello, Jeremy!" said James, laconically.

"I...you...car's busted."

"Yes, we noticed! And frankly, after all you've done, I don't think the producers are going to be happy!"

"Oh what can they do? Fire me? They do that and the whole show goes down the...the you know what."

"Well, let's focus on the here and now. How the hell are we going to get to the awards!?" To answer the Hamster's question, a man in a white coat suddenly walked forward, handed Jeremy a piece of paper and walked off again. "Oh, so he...follows us everywhere?"

"Apparently. Ahem." Jeremy read it aloud.

"You idiots. Can you not go five minutes without causing an international incident with someone?"

"They ask too much of you." muttered James.

"Well we've had to get pretty desperate here and make sure that these Pack people don't hinder us anymore than needs be. And to accomplish that, we must hand you over to someone else. Something else. Some say, that if you look at him for long enough, he turns into a sailboat. And that if you were to remove his gloves, you would find webbed flippers instead of hands. All we know is...he's not the Stig, he's the Stig's SUDRIAN COUSIN!"

...

THE PAST.

One Halloween, on a foggy and muggy night, the Fat Controller decided that Percy was too happy and comfortable at the moment, and thus sent him out into the dark to help out his 'friend' Alfie. Truth be told, Percy despised Alfie with the passion of a thousand suns (He was too stupid even for Percy, which says a lot) but he had to grin and bear it. Besides, he'd get a few more pounds out of his contract if that was the case.

Alfie was on a night job, mending the road through Maithwaite Forest. Someone had once argued that Maithwaite hadn't had a forest a few weeks ago, but they had been laughed out of town. Of course Maithwaite had always had a forest! Forests just didn't grow on tress after all! Primarily because that would have been impossible.

Percy had arrived during the fifth workman's tea break. One would argue why the workmen were having tea at eleven o'clock at night, but then one would also argue why the Pack appeared to be even more dysfunctional than the Famous Eight, which was saying something. No one would get anywhere if that was the case.

Anyway, the vehicles and Percy sat around, shooting the breeze, before someone suggested that Kelly tell a Halloween story. Isabella would later regret doing so, but at least she had the happy memory of Kelly's big grin at the prospect of scaring the hell out of everyone.

"I hope it's not too spooky!" said Percy, putting on his best scared voice. To be brutally honest, he was already missing the mindless inanities of James and Gordon. Calling the Pack mindless would be an insult to those born without brains.

"ME TOO!" said Alfie, trying to join in.

"...Yeah, you too." Percy said with little to no emotion in his voice. He glanced at Alfie and hissed. "And why are you trying to rip off my scared face!? ONLY I CAN USE THAT SCARED FACE. It says so in my contract!"

"You get contracts?!" Isabella asked.

"We have got to get better agents." murmured Oliver.

"Rrrrrrubbish!" said Max, who was now doing a strange impersonation of one of the Scottish Twins.

"It's just a story! GOSH! POSER!"

"SSSSSH!" said Jack, failing to use his inside voice.

"Once upon a time-"

"0/10, cliche." said a rather bored Percy.

"...ONCE UPON A TIME. There was an old steam truck."

"Was her name Isabella?" muttered Max.

"He was very cross. A bit miffed. Someone had taken one of his headlamps."

"Why didn't they just get him a new one?"

Kelly blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Well, I mean, the fact of the matter is that driving on the road with only one headlamp is incredibly dangerous. I think this is less a horror story and more a cautionary tale to people like Miss Jenny who fail to treat you right. I mean, who are the people going to sue if this one-eyed truck kills someone? The truck, or the idiots who refused to fix his headlamp up?"

"Percy, SSSH. I'M TELLING THE STORY MY WAY."

...

ONE STORY LATER.

"-AND THEN, the truck chased the loader into the deepest darkest part of the forest!"

"...A-And then what happened?" asked Isabella. She hadn't been aware that Kelly was going to take his story into a direction that involved cannibals, ritualistic sacrifices, orgies and cannibalistic orgies during ritualistic sacrifices.

"Luckily, the loader found a way out! True, he went mad and called himself Cuckoo McBumbersnazzle, but that's besides the point! But it's said that the one eyed truck is still out there! Looking for his lost headlamp. Maybe he'll try and take one of yours...and it's why he's STANDING RIGHT BEHIND YOU!"

Everyone screamed. Some louder and shriller than others. Not naming any names here, Ned.

"THAT WAS NOT FUNNY!" Isabella screamed at Kelly, who looked just a little bit sheepish. Which considering that Isabella was the only person who cared whether he lived or died, made sense.

"THAT WAS THE BEST STORY EVER." said Jack, who was very easy to impress.

"I hope I never never never never meet the one eyed truck, no no no!" said Alfie.

"Try using protection." said Percy, dryly.

"STUFF AND NONSENSE!" said Monty. He was speaking for both himself and Max, who had curled into a ball and started to whimper. The siren sounding sent the two loaders into even more of a tizzy.

"Break's over! Back to work, lads!" said Kelly, eager to see if there was any quicksand he could fall in.

And now, for the visually impaired. Alfie is small. So is Percy. Alfie is green. So is Percy. Alfie is funny in short doses, but terrible in long ones. So is Percy. They were having a wonderful time, if you weren't actually watching the episode and ignored Percy's incredibly fixed smile.

Max and Monty did not help with this. "IT'S THE ONE EYED TRUCK!"

"SCAREDY SCAREDY! WASSUP, YOU YELLOW COWARDS!?"

"No it's not. You're not the one eyed truck, you're Max and Monty. You're the poor man's Bill and Ben in truck form." said an incredibly tired little green tank engine. "Get new material, mate."

"STOP THAT. PICK ON SOMEONE YOUR OWN SIZE WHO ISN'T ME!"

Max and Monty laughed and ignored Jack. Which, regardless of their attitude, is the first sane thing anyone's done thus far in this show. When they had settled down, the foreman arrived to give them a message. "Take these loads to the quarry, be careful, it's very dark! We could wait until morning, but...well, that would be wasting time! And Miss Jenny doesn't like timewasters...I heard she eats them for breakfast."

...

As they drove into the forest, it got darker and darker. What they were expecting at night/early morning I'm not sure. It seems to me that they were being a tad stupid there...all right, that's unfair. They were being VERY stupid. The woods were full of spooky shapes and shadows! And also Old Bailey and his secret fox wife. ...Don't ask.

At which point, the Wise Old Owl hooted very audibly.

"YOWZA!? WHAT IN THUNDERING HELL WAS THAT!?" raved Max, who had lost his chill a moment ago.

"It's an owl." said Monty, who had also had his chill abandon him. "Calm your tits! Or...what passes for tits for us...wow, there's a thought."

"HRAR!"

"AND THAT?!" shrieked Max.

"I DON'T KNOW!" snapped Monty.

Lady Bailey the Fox began to make her way down the hill. But neither twin knew that. Nor had they stuck around to find out.

They arrived at the dumping site, shoved their soil into the hole and were just psyching themselves up to head back when they heard a very odd sound, warped and reflected over the air. "IT'S-"

A single headlamp shone in the night, as the whistle drew nearer and nearer.

"THE ONE EYED TRUCK! WAIT! I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE! I'VE NOT FOUND MY NIRVANA YET!" wailed Monty.

Both loaders took off like a shot, rushing and racing back along the road and screaming about how the "ONE EYED TRUCK WAS AFTER US!" to anyone who would listen.

"Bloody hell, there's no such thing!" said Kelly, amused.

"YEAH YEAH YEAH! NO. SUCH. THING."

"Oh really, you PLEBS! THEN WHAT IS THAT?!"

"That's Thomas." said a very confused foreman. "For that matter, why the hell did you think the ROAD vehicle was using the RAILS?! And had a whistle instead of a horn!?"

"I WAS VERY...surprised." said Max, lamely.

"THOMAS!" said Percy.

"Oh, this is a palaver. Hey, buddy! Fatty sent me with some more freight cars! ...Ugh, sorry, US terminology is starting to seep through!"

The two loaders immediately turned a magnificent shade of red and stayed silent for the rest of the night. Thankfully. Everyone else had a good laugh, especially Alfie and Percy.

Both engines breathed a sigh of relief when they could get back to their normal bit of chaos.

Until the next episode, that is.

* * *

NEXT TIME:

ENTER NORRIS VON STIG, THE SUDRIAN STIG.


	31. Episode 5: Kelly's Windy Day

Norris von Stig will appear after the episode proper! Got to build it up a little! We'll get more of what he's actually about in the next chapter, but I think this is a really fun intro to him.

 **AaronCottrell97:** And you shall GET SOME MORE. TODAY.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : HA. ...Well, I mean, I think at this point Edward's still stuck in Shed World. So someone has to step up.

 **Bronze Shield:** Hey, you said it, not me.

 **Game-Watch:** They did! Or didn't you read the Scaredy Engines episode? XD. Thank you!

 **MattPrice01:** :D

 **JD145:** Indeed! The old titles are really fun. As opposed to the more boring one.

 **UGX7** : Probably!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** That they have, that they have!

 **Greatwestern1522** **:** That does sound accurate.

CUE THE...less than impressive theme music.

* * *

THE PAST.

"TAKE ME SIDEWAYS UP THE DUCK POND, MORE BUILDING?!"

"Eh. Apparently the incident with the Molotov Cocktail kinda screwed over the library situation."

"AGAIN!?" protested Thomas, his Sudrian Blue paintwork almost peeling away in outrage. "Why the hell is it that we're only getting buildings reconstructed now!? DID YOU ALL SLEEP AND MISS THE MASSIVE WAR WE FOUGHT!? There was a big demon and everything!"

"Not like the rest of the world has forgotten that. Oh wait!"

"...Shut up, Kelly, this is why no one likes you."

"I know. And I'm comfortable with that."

At the site for the new library, Thomas dropped Kelly off. Onto his head. "Oh, and to add to that, wind's strong today! I'm going to have James whine about getting everything on his paint for days now!"

"It's far too strong!" said Kelly. "It's gonna cause havoc for the building site!"

"For someone who doesn't care about his life, you're sure worried about things." Thomas paused. "That...That wasn't an invitation for you to kill yourself, I mean! I don't want you to kill yourself! OH GOD KELLY, DO NOT, FOR ANY REASON, KILL YOURSELF."

"Can't make any promises. But to answer your question, I care about the rest of the crew."

"OI, KELLY, STOP HOGGING CAMERA TIME!"

"Even if they don't care for me that much."

Jack and the others were struggling to get their work done. So no one really noticed much of a difference in that regard. But something that was new was that Kelly's crane arm appeared to be locking up. "Oh, this is bad." said Kelly, who wanted a relatively painless death that didn't involve Miss Jenny in any way, shape or form. Unfortunately, as his arm locked down, the wind began to pick up in full force, and the large support beam that he was holding began to weigh heavy on him in a literal sense.

"LOOK OUT!" said Jack, helpful as ever.

It was, as per usual, too late. Kelly toppled over, his arm and the beam smashing into a nearby building.

"Holy shit, I take my eyes off them for one second- ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?!"

"...Yeah...um...just a bit stuck. Is anyone else hurt?"

"NO! IF THEY WERE, YOU WOULD KNOW, AND IT WOULD ALL BE YOUR FAULT."

"Don't ever become a grief counselor, Jack." said a weary Isabella.

"ALSO, SHED'S DOWN."

"Oh dear." said Kelly, who just wanted to be left alone to rot in agony. But soon enough, he was back on the lowloader and he had to face Miss Jenny. "Sorry about that, Miss Jenny."

"Wasn't yer fecking fault! I can't believe I'm saying that about one of me own crew! Ye're more screwed up than a whole bag of screws in a screw factory! ...YOU'RE FECKED IS WHAT I'M SAYING."

"I...got the drift, Miss Jenny."

"We'll get ye back to the yard and get the workmen to earn their fecking keep by making ye wheels better!"

"What's that about my HOLY SHIT WHAT HAPPENED TO MY WHEELS."

"Boy, and they say I've slow reactions." muttered Thomas. Out loud, he added "I'm glad it's just your wheels!"

"Me too." said Kelly, with no real feeling. He couldn't help but feel as though he was a big risk. What if he fell over and hurt someone? Or god forbid, what if his attempt to end it all put someone else in the crossfire? He glanced to Isabella, who offered him a cheerful looking smile. He tried to smile back. It didn't really work.

...

That night, the wind blew hard.

"EEEK!"

So hard that the men in the red balloon nearly took out a church steeple in the chaos. And as the wind blew, the rain bucketed down. Kelly was glum. Hypothermia was one way that he did not want to die. And as the workmen worked hard on Kelly's wheel, and wondered why they were still here when they could have left ages ago, Kelly tried to think about where this desire to die came from.

He hit a wall.

Literally, as his arm started to act up. "SORRY LADS!" He shouted to Alfie, who winced in agony.

And come the next day, everyone else had left him to his own devices. The rain had stopped, but the wind was still blowing a gale. So Kelly sat, and thought about a variety of things. Like how he was really beginning to wonder if he should invest in a decent therapist.

"KELLY!? THANK THE FECK YE'RE ALIVE, LAD! ISABELLA'S COME OFF THE FECKING ROAD! Why she did it, I don't know, the stupid bint! I told her to stay on target and now she's hanging off a fecking bridge! Anyways, long story short, ye get yer arse in gear!"

"ISABELLA'S IN DANGER?!" Kelly started forward...and then stopped. "Wait, shouldn't you get someone who actually knows what they're doing?"

"THERE IS NO ONE ELSE, YE FECKING CHICKEN! Else I wouldn't have come to you!"

"Never become a motivational speaker, Miss J."

...

Isabella, when thinking about her life, had never really imagined that it would possibly end with her dangling half off the road and half over a ledge like a seesaw. Yet, here she was.

"HANG ON, ISABELLA!"

"OH THANKS, KELLY. I WAS GOING TO LET GO, BUT NOW THAT YOU'VE SAID IT-"

"Are you...Are you okay?!"

"WHAT. THE. FECK. DO YOU. THINK?"

"..."

"...It's good to see you, Kelly. And yes, I'm fine, I guess. If you ignore the whole plunging to my death."

"Bit of an exaggeration there, Isabella. I assumed you'd fallen off a viaduct or something."

"JUST...get me up, please."

"Okie do-Why is there a piano on your back?"

"Don't ask."

"But I just did."

"...I hate you sometimes."

"Don't worry. I hate me all the time. Okay, let's get this off you first." And so Kelly began to gently move the piano off of Isabella's back. One might argue that this was rather stupid, considering that removing a counteweight might mean that she was going to tip over completely. But...well, I've not got an answer on me, but I'm sure you'll give us feedback on that.

The wind blew...and the piano swayed.

"AAAAAAH!" cried Old Mother Hubbard, who was there for some reason."BE CAREFUL!"

"Oh, it appears to be stating the fecking obvious day today." muttered Miss Jenny. Kelly gently laid it down and groaned. Now for the hard bit.

"Well, on the pus side, at least the piano is safe!"

"Never knew you were a music lover, Isabella."

"Oh shut up, you."

And with a lot of people watching (Including Jem Cole, who had let himself go in recent months due to the stress of restoring Elizabeth), Kelly's arm began to do it's magic work. It was hard work, and the wind didn't help matters either. Isabella began to teeter on the edge, with only Kelly's arm holding her in place. "Oh, is this death?!" she shouted. And then she suddenly realized something. "Kelly?! You've stopped!"

"Y-Yes! ...Um...I...I don't think I can do this! Look, there has to be someone better at working in the wind-"

"GET YER ARSE IN GEAR! YE CAN DO IT KELLY!"

"But I-"

"DO IT!"

"Listen, you really don't-"

"DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!"

Under the peer pressure of Miss Jenny, how could Kelly refuse? His winch started up again, and this time he threw everything he had into it. His back cracked seconds later, and with a gasped pain, he tightened his grip. Slower...

And slower...

And slower...

And slow-

"I'M UP! Mind my paint!"

"Ohhhhhh thank you, lord." Kelly gasped, collapsing to the ground and breathing heavily. "MY BACK IS NEVER RECOVERING FROM THIS."

"Phew! I didn't want to have to explain why there's another truck dead to the office! ...Poor Nigel. TA, KELLY!" Miss Jenny quickly hurried off before the people who had been stuck on the road decided to give her a piece of their mind. And so, Kelly and Isabella were left to wait it out together, as they caught their breath. There was a long silence.

At last, she spoke up. "Thank you, Kelly."

"...S'alright. ...Glad you're okay."

And soon they were on their way again. And Thomas could see that for once, Kelly was happy.

...

THE PRESENT.

Which is something that couldn't be said in this situation.

"I want to go home." said Kelly, miserably. "Or at the least, to a B&B that isn't complete and utter trash. Which given that we're here...might be hard to find." He glanced around. The battle against the Top Gear lot had taken a lot out of them. And still, the others were willing to pursue them. They might, after all, know the way.

Besides, Max and Monty wanted to meet their biggest hero.

"When I find that Stig-" said Byron "-I'm gonna pulverize him! Like you lot should have done!"

"EH? YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU HYPOCRITE!" shouted Max. "WASSUP WITH THE WAY YOU TREATED CLARKSON?!"

"Oh piss off!"

"We're better off just calling it quits!" snarled Nelson. "We take this road down here, we'll be even more delayed. And I for one want to be there to rub in the Best Ensemble in a Kid's Show Award right in that smug lot's face-"

"SSSSH." said Alfie. "Can you hear that?"

"Oh, in this city? Try saying what it is we're supposed to listening for-"

"No, he's right!" Kelly clicked his tongue. That was a statement he had not expected to say ever. "There's something."

A faint rumbling beneath the city seemed to reverberate above even the rest of the noise and bustle and hustle that was occurring all around them. Soon, even Jack and Patrick had shut up, and for a moment, the Pack were unsure what to do.

Abruptly, the sound ceased.

They waited a minute.

"WELL-" said Jack, after another moment "-SHALL WE-"

And then the ground exploded upwards. The Pack scarpered back as best they could, but even so, Oliver and Monty were knocked back a fair bit. The street was quickly emptied, save for the idiotic vehicles. They merely froze and looked ahead at them.

At the figure who emerged from the wreckage. At his Sudrian Blue jumpsuit, with what appeared to be brass-knuckledusters attached to his gloved hands. At the helmet, visor glowing a faint red in the light.

Oh, and also at the large, military grade tank that he was standing on and pointing straight at the Pack.

There was a second of pause. Then Kelly screamed in pure terror. "MOVE! MOVE MOVE MOVE!"

Norris Von Stig had arrived.

...

"I like how your plan to redeem our honor is to essentially lay waste to an entire city. And where does he even reside!?"

"The sewers, apparently." said Hammond, as they watched Jeremy Clarkson take in the destruction with something approaching orgasmic glee. He handed James a crisp. "You know, we could just leave him, you know."

"Well, I mean, if you're offering."

"I mean he doesn't have a car, does he?"

James looked beyond Hammond. "He does now."

"Wha-?" Hammond turned, just in time to see his own car blast off with a rather amused looking Clarkson flicking him the bird on his way out. "YOU BASTARD!" He swung round to look at May. "HOW-"

"You left your keys on the table. Really, Hammond-"

"Why didn't you stop him!?"

"This pie is delicious! I was busy savoring it! How hard it is nowadays to find a shop that actually sells honest to goodness English Pies!"

May continued to enjoy his pie,as the Pack fled in terror towards them. Hammond watched as May's car grew closer and closer to the tank. Making a decision, he snatched May's car key from the table, launched himself towards it, got in and started the engines.

May, meanwhile, went back inside to get another pie.


	32. Episode 6: Byron to the Rescue

Today! TWO WORLDS COLLIDE! THE GREATEST MEETING IN THE HISTORY OF THIS STORY HAPPENS.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Then hopefully you love this chapter!

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Yes, Yes and YES!

 **Bronze Shield:** Eh, most of the Pack episodes settle onto 'fine' for the most part.

 **Game-Watch:** It's fine! Thanks!

 **MattPrice01:** SAME! I miss it so much!

 **JD145:** I do! I like the Unlucky Tug's reviews, and I'm a fan of a lot of Trainz users, especially those who do something different with it! I also really love any people who put their own spins on music from the show, it's really something.

 **UGX7:** Another one in this one as well!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Eh, that's an accurate summary.

CUE THE...less than impressive theme music.

* * *

THE PRESENT.

"How can I help you, sir?"

"Yes, I'd like to order two more of your delicious pies, please. Same as the last, please, they were delicious!"

"I'm...sorry, sir, but we're all out."

"...I beg your pardon! ...The girl behind the counter said that I was the first person to order any pie of any variety today! And I only ordered one!"

"I know, sir. But after you left, one of the men you were with came in and ordered all of our pies to go. He flashed a fair pit of cash around too, so we couldn't really refuse. He did ask if they were hot, and we said yes so he wouldn't punch us in the face. You can lose your job that way. He was...what was his name? ...Oh that's right! It was-"

...

 _ **"CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARKSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNN!"**_

...

THE PAST.

It was a grey day on the Island of Sodor. Most engines had gathered together in their sheds to catch upon whole seasons of TV programs left to record while they were working. But not so much Percy. He had been drafted, once again, to take Jack and Alfie to Cronk Station.

Cronk, for the record, was another station that had just appeared right the hell out of nowhere. The people justified this by smacking anyone who asked about it across the face and hissed at them to 'not overthink things, ugh, oh my gosh you guys', which was effective. Also, people kept confusing it for that one character frm the Emperor's New Groove. So that was a pain.

Carlin was just as happy as the engine he drove. "What the f**k?!" he raved to all and sundry "This is total horsesh*t! WHY THE F**K AM I BEING DRAGGED INTO THIS?!"

"Apparently you get great ratings." said the fireman.

"Well, I mean, aside from that!"

Jack and the Pack were here to build a new repair shed for the people of Cronk. The last one had been demolished by Kelly when the wind had blown so fiercely. This was more a show of good faith and repentance than anything else. But to make matters even harder for them, the rain of the past two days had completely wiped out the building site. It was now muddy and mucky, and some would argue that they are the same things, but they are wrong! The script says so. Alfie, however, loved it.

"LET'S! GET! MUCKY!" said he.

"Wrong fecking show about building machines!" cried a nervous Miss Jenny. "Now! It's a fecking nightmare out here, especially with the mud, so ye know what that means! Let's make this a catchphrase!"

"Safety first!" said Byron, feeding Miss Jenny's addiction to catchphrases.

"And no horsing about, Max and Monty! Ye horse about and I'll get me boys at the glue factory to start preparing the slaughterhouse!"

"...Can you even make glue out of us-?"

"OH THEY'LL FIND A WAY!" She glanced around, saw Carlin and stormed over, determined to take out her nervous aggression on someone. "AND WHAT THE FECK DO YE THINK WAS THE POINT IN TAKING YER TIME!?"

Big mistake.

"Oh yeah!? Well what the f**k do you think you're doing coming over here and throwing your sh*t at me, you...red headed snot!"

"Oh, OH IS THIS HAPPENING? THANK FECK! YE LOOK LIKE YER MAMMY PUSHED YE OUT IN A DITCH! And ye smell like ye've not have a bath since domesday, ye American sod!"

"Oh f**k the hell off with that! You look the height of fashion sense...if today's fashion was based around the Potato Famine, youuuuu WANK PHEASANT masquerading in bitch form!"

"Ummm, Carlin?"

"SHUT THE HELL UP PERCY!" said the two of them, now nose to nose, staring at each other in complete and utter rage. Percy shut the hell up.

"You know what this means?"

"AYE!"

"WE MUST HAVE A SWEAR OFF!" The two of them stormed off into the distance to have their argument. We'll come back to them later. Let's get on with the plot that no one really cares about at this point.

Jack and Alfie were having a blast, primarily because of all the mud around them. Alfie loved mud. He loved it more than fuel. More than that hot chick wot was on the telly. More than even Jack. He loved mud, and this was the muddiest mud that had ever muddied a place.

In case you couldn't tell, it was really quite muddy. And in case you didn't, Alfie spinning around like a loon screaming "MUD! GLORIOUS MUD!" while practically rubbing into his frames would have tipped you off.

Byron, meanwhile, was doing his job. He cut straight and precisely. All would be well as long as he didn't notice the several large oak trees that towered over him. "Look at that!" He said, admiringly. "A work of art."

"MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDD!" screamed Alfie, who was ready to dedicate the rest of his life to worshipping his messy god, if so need-be. No one was watching Byron work. Which strikes to me as going against the whole 'safety first' issue, but hey, what do I know?

...

"WELL YE'RE SO OLD, YE MAKE BRUCE FORSYTH LOOK LIKE A TODDLER!"

"Well you're so big a bitch that you'd make the She Wolf of the SS say "That's going a bit too far!"!"

"Oh, a Nazi joke! How very profound! Yer sense of humor is about as up to date as Jim Davidson's, ye out of date toad sucking dickhead!"

"Funny! I was just about to say the same about your hair, you overblown Jezebel!"

...

And now back to the plot! ...What plot, they ask? Who cares, we answer!

Max and Monty were, of course, up to no good. The threat of being turned into glue...somehow, had not affected them. They raced around through puddles and all the rest, splashing Percy.

"Bust my buffers! CARLIN! THEY'RE BEING MEAN TO ME!"

"F**k off!" came the reply, as Carlin was far too busy coming up with stellar insults to think of anything else.

"What do you think of my wicked, rad, totally not boring trench, Oliver!?" said Byron, proudly. Oliver was trying his best not to let his craving for food brought on the by the latest batch of drugs get to him. And also to not sink into the mud. Therefore, he didn't really care enough to make a response. Byron was being a needy bastard today. He wanted someone, anyone to give him approval! Except for that oak tree.

Because the oak tree could go straight to hell!

Like Nigel.

...Poor Nigel.

His attention was suddenly taken by the sound of two engines revving loudly.

"READY!"

"GO!"

And off shot the two loaders. The other Pack members began to swear up a storm, throwing themselves out of the way as best as they could. Alfie couldn't move, however. He shouted out an ineffectual "SLOW DOWN!" but it was too late.

There was a loud crack. The water pipe shattered. And a geyser of it shot up like a rocket and began to drop down upon the ground. And then Alfie began to sink.

...

"YE'RE LIKE A MOLDY KITKAT LEFT IN THE WRAPPER! Ye sound like ye might be appetizing, but once ye take a bite, ye're a load of old dog shite!"

"Speaking of dog shite, is that Eau to Shittoire you're wearing, or is that just your natural musk?!"

"FECK YE!"

"F**K YOU!"

"FECK YE!"

"F**K YOU!"

...

"HELLLLLP! MUD GOD, WHY WOULD YOU BETRAY OUR LOVE!? WHYYYYYY?"

"I'LL GET YOU OUT!"

"Like hell you will, Jack!" said the foreman. "We can actually afford to lose him! We've got a hell of a lot of money riding on you as the star!" He paused. "No offence, Alfie, but you are just Muck from Bob the Builder." The workmen shut off the water, but there was no way to get Alfie out of there.

Miss Jenny rushed over, still cursing a storm at Carlin. "FECK ME SIDEWAYS WITH A RUSTY NAIL! I go away for TWO minutes and this shite happens! I will have words with ye! BYRON! Get ye bloated arse into gear and remind me why I still keep ye around!"

"I'm coming, you green idiot!" Byron was not blind, and he could see that Alfie was quickly sinking. "Grab my blade!"

One embarrassing performance later, Alfie admitted. "I can't reach it! NO NO NO!"

"Careful Byron! I wouldn't want to have to start caring about ye now!"

Byron inched closer and closer. "Come on, you bastard!" he hissed. "You're showing me up!"

One slightly less embarrassing performance later, Alfie latched onto Byron's blade. "GOT IT! Now hurry up! I don't want to see mud anywhere near for the next week or so!"

"Come on, lad, come on." whispered Kelly.

Byron pulled and struggled, and struggled and pulled, and all the various combinations of the two until at last, Byron pulled Alfie to safety. He was happy to be out of the mud. Percy was just happy he got to go home soon.

"Well done Byron!"

"Well done Byron!"

"Well done Byron!"

"GO FECK YERSELF, BYRON!"

Eh, thought Byron, three out of four ain't bad.

...

That night,

"Ye'll be spending the next three weeks in the shed!" she hissed. "Ye should be ashamed of yerself! If ye hurt someone with ye carelesness, who would suffer for it? Eh? ME! That's who!""

"Yes Miss Jenny." said the two of them, in agreement with her for once.

Then Miss Jenny stormed off towards Carlin. "And ye!"

"Yeah?"

"FECK YE!"

"F**K YOU!"

"F*CK YE!"

"F**K YOU!"

"FECK. YE!"

"F**K. YOU!"

"...Me room. Ten minutes. Bring protection."

"Sure thing."

...

THE PRESENT.

"WHAT DO WE DO?!"

"HOW THE HELL SHOULD I KNOW?!"

This discussion was being carried in a variety of different ways by the various members of the Pack. Unfortunately, no one indeed had an idea on what to do. At least until Alfie suggested-

"Split up!? Are you CRACKERS?!" screamed Isabella, swerving to avoid another shot.

"HE CAN'T TAKE US ALL OUT!"

"He's got a...really shitty point!" growled Oliver, swatting away a blast. They soon came to a crossroads, three different ways to go. Jack, Monty, Patrick and Nelson down one, Alfie, Max and Ned the second, and Isabella, Oliver, Kelly and Byron the third.

At which point, Norris Von Stig pulled a lever.

And from out of the tank, huge plane like wings sprouted, and he took off into the sky. Machine gun turrets were readied, and the hunt began in earnest.

...

Somewhere else, Jeremy Clarkson looked in his wing mirror.

And stared in a strange terror, as an enraged James May drove towards him on a...incredibly slow scooter. He had to obey the code of the road, naturally! But all the while, May was bellowing his name for all to hear.

The chase was on!


	33. Episode 7: The Lightning Tree

We're going to get the Pack series done sooner or later! We're almost there, guys! Push on! A fairly reduced bit of Present Time because HEY, padding's fun. More next time, I promise.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Ehhhhh, sort of.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : *Cue Twilight Zone music*

 **Bronze Shield:** It does not take much to do that, unfortunately.

 **Game-Watch:** Perhaps we'll find out someday...or not.

 **MattPrice01:** NO! The TG plot was actually not even in the original plan! But I quickly adjusted it upon realizing how...weak the Pack episodes would be otherwise. Glad you and everyone else enjoyed Carlin and Miss Jenny meeting!

 **JD145:** I have no opinion on the animated stuff. The TUGS stuff is a BUTCHERING OF A GREAT SHOW...so no, not a fan. XD.

 **UGX7:** All you need to learn is that they are three VERY stupid men who do stupid shit. That's literally it. XD.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** HA! Thanks!

 **TrainManiac:** Ehhhh, it's been a while! I'm glad you're still reading and enjoying! Oliver was one of those characters I just decided to go all out on.

CUE THE...less than impressive theme music.

* * *

THE PAST

"More filming on that ghastly spin-off, Thomas?"

"Shut the hell up, James."

"Ooooh, aren't I scandalized?!" James flounced off in a huff, while Henry wondered if he could get some of that sweet, sweet stuff from Oliver. Or whether or not that would violate the terms of his...agreement with the Sudrian authorities. But Thomas couldn't dwell on anything really, as the Fat Controller had a special for him. Shock of all shocks, it was apparently a 'special special'. I know, who would have guessed?

"You need to take two of Miss Jenny's machines to Maithwaite Forest-"

"AGAIN!? What the hell's going on there?!"

"...As. I. Was. Saying. They're repairing the lightning tree."

"Ohhhh, the lightning tree, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME BEFORE!? Now all of this makes perfect sense, apart from the small fact of 'WHAT THE LIVING HELL IS THE LIGHTING TREE' that might cause me some confusion."

"Don't you ever read up on ancient history, Thomas?"

"Don't you ever go outside and have an interaction with another person who isn't your drug seller, Henry?"

"Fair enough, just thought it warranted pointing out. Jerk."

"Gimme the cliffnotes version."

"Sacrifices, various blood rituals, RollingStock 70...all sorts of disasters there! So good luck with that!"

"Ughhh. Yes sir, I'll get right on it straight away. Hopefully the two vehicles are at the very least entertaining-"

...

"WHY IS MY LIFE SUCH PAIN!?" wailed Thomas two minutes later, as he pulled Jack and Alfie along on a flatbed towards the building site. Somewhere, Edward began to laugh bitterly for some reason he wasn't sure about.

"OH MY GOD ALFIE I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THE LIGHTNING TREE!"

"Neither can I, Jack! Yeah yeah yeah, it'll be super-cool!"

"Oh, so you've heard of it!" snapped Thomas in a sulky manner. "Am I the only person who's ever heard of the Lightning Tree?!"

"Yes!" said the driver, fireman and all of the workmen riding to work with Thomas on that day. The tank engine grumbled, and didn't speak unless he was spoken to for the duration of the journey.

"Why is it even called The Lightning Tree? It's a daft name to give a tree in any case! Trees aren't people! ...Henry isn't hearing this, is he?" He looked around nervously, just on chance. Henry could get...passionate about trees.

"BECAUSE IT GOT HIT BY LIGHTNING."

"...Wait, is that it? I was expecting some kind of story behind it! ...Wait, there's got to be hundreds of trees that have been struck by lightning before?! Are they all Lightning Trees too? Or is this just some bull you're making up for the sake of the show!?"

"GREAT FECKING SKY GODS, will ye quit yer whining?!" Miss Jenny stormed out of her trailer, looking like she had just gone twelve rounds with a wolverine. Which considering that she and Carlin had being going at it all night before, she probably had been. "It's old, in need of repairs and yet for some reason we're not allowed to just cut it down and start again! Much like most of the FECKING POLITICIANS IN THIS COUNTRY! FECK EM! AND THE YANKS! THEY CAN ALL FECK OFF! ...Where was I going with this? ...Oh yeah, the dumb fecking tree needs to be repaired. Apparently."

"But how will we know which one it is?!" said Alfie, who had forgotten to turn the volume down.

"You'll know!" said Kelly, who had tried to kill himself several times from the lightning tree, and was therefore partly responsible for the state that it was in. "It's the biggest tree in the woods! And I should know! ...I've crashed into enough of them."

"We need to prop it the feck up! Much like what the rest of the world has to do to the Americans to get them to FECKING WORK ON TIME." Miss Jenny was not, as one can gather, a fan of Americans. No, not even the one she was sleeping with.

To be brutally honest, he was not doing his country much credit in his attitude. He hadn't even done the dishes before he'd sodded off to work with Percy! The nerve on that bastard.

"Now, listen to me-" She grabbed Max and Monty by the front and almost lifted them clean off the ground "-LISTEN TO ME. DON'T. FECKING. RUN. ABOUT. ALSO-"

"Safety first!" said the Pack.

"YER DAMN FECKING RIGHT SAFETY FIRST!" Miss Jenny then fired her pistol into the air to scare them into starting quickly. No one commented on the hypocrisy there, it all seemed pretty clear to them.

...

As the two made their way through the forest, Jack and Alfie continued to do their usual schtick of chattering away inanely to each other about nothing in particular, until they came upon the lightning tree.

"WOW."

"It's big big big!" said Alfie.

The tree had a massive crack in the middle of it where, presumably, it had been struck by the lightning. Or equally as possibly, where Kelly had failed to end it all in a comedic fashion. Either or, really. The foreman had noted that the roots had also been pulled up, and that it wouldn't take much time, or much in general, for it to fall down completely.

"SO...why don't we want that to happen?" asked Nelson to Isabella, as they watched from afar.

"Um...something about...heritage?"

"Have you seen how many pissing trees have been struck by lighting over the past two years alone!?"

"Hey, I don't make the rules!"

"Well maybe I SHOULD."

"You mean, maybe 'you' should."

"I meant what I said."

Jack and Alfie, for once, were approaching the situation very carefully and aware that things could go wrong at any moment. It was a pity, therefore, that Max and Monty had chosen today to be a pair of right prats. Well, I mean, more so than usual. They were racing about, terrifying the local wildlife (In both human and animal form) and then, suddenly, they veered towards the tree.

"LOOK OUT!"

"YOU'LL HIT THE SACRED TREE!"

It was, as per usual, too late. Max slammed into Monty, Monty slammed into the tree, and somewhere, Miss Jenny slammed her head into her hands for reasons she wasn't yet sure of.

"Who put this here?!" asked Monty.

"THE TREE IS FALLING DOWN!" said Jack.

"Well, he's not blind, at least." said Nelson, who was too much of an asshole to try helping out. Isabella, meanwhile, had already decided to check and see if Kelly wanted to give himself brain trauma some more.

"We must SAVE IT!" said Alfie, who had bought into the hype a little too much. He raced forward, jamming his bucket against the mighty tree. The two loaders had already taken off, furiously denying even knowing what a 'tree' was. "HELLLLP THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA!"

"I'M COM-"

"Move aside, you little goofball!" said a grumpy Oliver, who wanted more than anything to just go back to the Yard and get high as all hell. However, he couldn't, so he might as well try saving the stupid tree. Unfortunately, even with his own shovel added to prop it up, the tree was still coming down, albeit slowly.

"KELLY KELLY DOO! WHERE ARE YOU? WE'VE GOT SOME WORK TO DO NOW!"

"ROVER- I mean, ahem. Over here! Ah, typical! The one day we have to actually TAKE CARE OF A TREE and Byron's nowhere in sight! Ruddy typical!" snapped Kelly as he ambled on over with an expression of deep annoyance on his face. He added his arm to the 'holding the stupid tree up' club, as it had quickly become known amongst the watching workers.

"WELL THIS IS A NICE WAY TO SPEND ETERNITY!" snarled Oliver.

"Funny, I didn't think it would end like this. I saw more...acid. And raining death. And lanterns, lots of lanterns. And I think something to do with a creature of pure light?"

"That's...oddly specific, Kelly."

"Well I'm an oddly specific construction vehicle."

"GET THE PROPS!" said Kelly's operator.

"But Nigel's nowhere to be found!" cried Alfie.

"OH HA HA! I MEAN THE PROPS FOR THE TREE!"

"Why would a tree need props?! It can't act! It is, quite literally, completely wooden!"

"Oh shut up, Oliver!"

Jack was already gone and at Thomas's side immediately

"THOMASYOUHAVETOGIVEMETHEPROPSBECAUSEMAXANDMONTYCRASHEDINTOTHETREEANDKNOCKEDITOVERANDNOWIT'SFALLINGOVERANDKELLYALFIEANDOLIVERARETHEREHOLDINGITUPOHGODOHGODWE'REALLGOINGTODIE!"

"...What?"

"PROPS. NOW."

"Fine! Get a move on, you weird little freak." Thomas hoped that Jack got back in time. Well, sort of. He was apathetic, to be brutally truthful.

"I don't think I can hold this for much longer!"

"HA! WIMP!"

"I'm like Popeye! I need my drugs to function!"

"...Popeye doesn't use drugs?"

"THEN WHAT THE HELL IS IN THAT SPINACH, EH?" As Jack raced up, Oliver let out a long sigh of relief. "Thank god! I'm getting really sober and I really, REALLY hate it!"

As soon as the lightning tree was saved via the use of props, the three vehicles collapsed into agonized gasping fits, unable to move or do anything for the rest of the week. Alfie could only manage a weak "Hooray!" before collapsing on his side and refusing to get back up until he was given cookies.

"WELL FECK ME WITH A GARDEN HOSE! I go and have a lie down for TWO MINUTES TO DEAL WITH THE MENO-WHATSIT, AND YE FECKERS GO AND NEARLY BLOW THIS WHOLE OPERATION!?" Miss Jenny took long deep breaths, her heart-rate was rocketing up. "Oh, ye three did...fine, I GUESS. The fecking tree is saved! ...WHOO-DE-DOO! And that's no thanks to ye two! LET'S SEE IF WE CAN'T GET SOME GLUE OUT OF YE."

"It's all Monty's fault!"

"Oh, shut up, Max!"

And as Thomas took Jack and Alfie home, he reflected on how much he DIDN'T care about this situation.

"LOOK!"

"YOU CAN SEE IT FROM HERE!"

It was the lightning tree.

And a grand amount of ZERO shits were given.

To this day, no one is quite sure why it's up there.

...Well there is one idea.

But that, as they say, is another story.

...

THE PRESENT.

"Oh no."

"Oh no!"

"Oh no!"

"MOTHERFUC-"

These were the responses of Kelly, Oliver, Byron and Isabella respectively as Van Stig blasted down the high street, training unfeasiblely large machine guns on them and began to shoot wildly.

"OH SHIT! OH SHIT! OH SHIT! OH SHIT!"

And so it went on for quite a while. Unfortunately at one point, that group and Jack's own crossed paths Scooby Doo style. There was a moment's pause, then a loud shriek, as the jet-tank strafed them and began to fire even more enthusiastically on them.

"THIS IS THE WORST DAY EVER!" wailed Jack.

"STICK AROUND A BIT LONGER AND THAT'LL CHANGE!" roared back Byron.

At which point, the plane caught him a little roughly. And by a little roughly, I mean he was shot up into the air like a cork from a bottle. Up and up and up and up he went, to the point where no one could see him any more.

"He's...going to come back down, right?" said Kelly, in confusion.

"I guess?" muttered Hammond, who had unfortunately arrived at the scene of the accident.

"ALL RIGHT! I'VE HAD IT UP TO HERE WITH THIS!" Isabella turned to Oliver. "HEY!"

"What?"

"CATCH!"

Oliver's eyes went as wide as saucers when he saw how many drugs were in Isabella's cab. And several indulgences later, and as someone began to play the Popeye theme at full blast, the battle commenced.

Elsewhere, James continued the chase at breakneck pace. In that you would break your neck if you tried to watch it, so excruciatingly slow was it.

* * *

NEXT TIME ON THE PACK ABRIDGED! OLIVER VS NORRIS VON STIG.


	34. Episode 8: Buster 1, Moles 0

Well guys, good news! I've written up the last remaining Pack episodes. All that's left now is to answer any review questions and add the Top Gear stuff, and hopefully I can get them out fairly quickly. And then...oh, Season 7. For the record, Buster's character is a joke, it's not meant to be taken seriously.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yep! He's really fun to write for.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Indeed...I wonder what Edward is going to say to that.

 **Bronze Shield:** Indeed! He is our last hope!

 **Game-Watch:** Indeed. Edward's going to have a few things to say about that.

 **MattPrice01:** Oh hell no, she'd blow everything up! ...Which considering the state of the world right now...well, insert your own political joke here. XD.

 **JD145:** While I do not watch them AS regularly as TFS, I really like LittleKuriboh's stuff. He's very funny, and as he's British, he's usually fairly in tune with my own jokes and stuff. I also enjoy SAO-Abridged.

 **UGX7:** Who knows? ...Well, I do. But still, you'll have to wait for that.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Indeed!

 **Tomas K:** Oh I don't know. Might go and ruin the Dreamstone. Or Thunderbirds. Heh. Hope that means you enjoyed?

 **AceHoneycomb:** Interesting! A bit weird (But then again, who am I to say that?) but intriguing. A lot of those sound like potential ideas that I had for the characters, but then I just decided to exaggerate most of their canon personality traits. The Hatt stuff sounds really funny though. The interesting thing about Season 8 onwards is that I have little to no memory of any of these episodes. I didn't watch them much, but at the same time, I didn't watch much of Season 7 for a time, and I still remember bits of that. Misty Island Rescue is something I'm really looking forward to doing! And I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for the comment.

CUE THE...less than impressive theme music.

* * *

THE PAST.

"Hooooooooly hell, who the hell's been tearing up the forest!?" Toby stared around in bafflement. "Somebody's got some splaining to do! ...Ow, okay, pain in my side, I'm going to get out of this spin-off before they make me be the token 'character that everyone recognizes' for an episode. I'm coming, Henrietta!"

And off he went, out of the story.

Isn't he lucky?

Trees were down and fences had been blown over after yet ANOTHER storm on the Island of Sodor. And thus, the Pack had been required to go around and pick everything up. As opposed to every other time, where it was the job of the engines to do that. But hey, you have to sell a series somehow, right?

Kelly and Isabella had been clearing fallen trees since the crack of dawn, and the crack of Miss Jenny's whip. That was a joke. She didn't need a whip. Her voice was harsh enough as it was.

Elsewhere, Ned and Max were removing a landslide. Percy was also there for some reason. That reason being Carlin, who was beginning to remember why it was he had gotten divorced in the first place. Relationships like his and MIss Jenny's was beginning to seriously weigh him down. He began to wish for the days of travelling through time as opposed to just travelling up the road to get milk for the ungrateful Miss.

Nelson was taking Oliver to help clear Henry's tunnel. Nelson wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't gotten an episode to explain who the hell he was and what he was doing in the series without being established, but he figured that he'd get some screen time in this episode-

HA! Of course not.

And as for the rest of the crew, Thomas had been sent by the Fat Controller to take them to the football ground. To...convince a few players to pay up. No, I'm just kidding. Can you imagine Hatt working as a gangster? His syndicate would crash and burn before it even got a hundred pounds going. Miss Jenny kicked down the door, slapped her latest servant across the face, grabbed her dog and stormed towards the train.

"The feck are ye doing waiting!? We've gotta leave immediately, ye fecking dishwasher on wheels! The car-park's covered with fallen trees! Why the feck the football pitch is next to a ruddy lumber yard, I will never know!"

"And it's the big game-"

"I'M TALKING, YE FECKING BLUE BILGERAT." Miss Jenny coughed. "So yeah, big game tomorrow, yadda yadda yadda, toxic male masculinity's going to stink up the whole place if we don't shift our arses and plonk them into digging mode!"

"WE SHALL HAVE TO MOVE QUICKLY!" said Jack, who was trying to sound like the leader for some reason. Kelly, Monty and Buster gave him very odd looks indeed, so he shut up. Buster rolled forward.

"My lady, you can totes rely on us to get the j-j-job done, fo'real, we're the playas, we can do anything we set our abso-babozlingly-lutely brill minds to! Isn't that right, homies? Homies? Don't leave a brother hanging!"

"We're not. We're leaving YOU hanging." said Monty. For once, Kelly was in agreement. This was embarrassing. And verging on racism.

"Why thank ye, Buster, I think...but yer not coming within ten miles of that car park. Otherwise I'll have a fecking heart attack every time ye move yer roller!"

"But...but why, G?"

"Me name's not G! This is a job for lifters, loaders, haulers and NOT FECKING TRYHARDS! Yer making us look like a bunch of bloody incompetents- And if ye say anything Thomas, I'll take ye out back and shoot ye! They'll never find yer body!"

Thomas didn't say anything. He believed her.

Buster was sad.

And no one cared.

...

And so, everyone left. Thomas as per usual was left as the designated driver for Jack and Alfie, while Kelly and Monty took the road off towards the pitch, followed closely by Miss Jenny's land-rover. A specially modified land-rover which had the ability to put more fear into construction vehicles than any supernatural being.

If Miss Jenny had fought the Malevolence, then the Malevolence would have soiled itself and given up five seconds in, is what most people believed.

"EVERY ONE OF THOSE BALLERS GOT A JOB!? And I am the only one without said job!? This bites, man! This is not whack!"

Thomas knew that his 'friend' Buster (HA!) was unhappy, as no one likes to be left out. Unless it's murder, in which case, being left out was the best thing for all involved.

...

Once they got to Dryaw FC, the crew began to get to work clearing away the fallen trees. Thomas was sitting there, primarily because he was bored. And he wanted some entertainment.

It was hard to tell where the damage from the storm started and where the damage done by most supporters of Dryaw FC stopped. After all, the battle last night against the Chigley Skins had been a brutal and vicious one. Not on the pitch, of course. By that point, the visiting players of Sodor United had needed more than their pingy-pongy washing looked at.

Elsewhere, Buster moaned aloud "IT'S NOT FRIGGITY FRIG FAIR! I want to help out too!"

"NO ONE CARES!" roared the workmen still back at the yard.

The work, surprisingly, wasn't nearly as hard as everyone had made it out to be, and they were all celebrating when Isabella arrived with the new goal posts. The old ones having been eaten by the goalkeeper of the Chigley Skins none too willingly.

Miss Jenny chanced a look at the pitch. She stopped. And paused. And then looked again.

"FECK ME DOWN ME MOUTH WITH A RUBBER CHICKEN! MOLEHILLS!? That's it! WE'RE GOING TO FECKING WAR, LADS!"

"Don't you think that's a bit of an over-reaction?"

"YER FIRED. AND IF YE LIKE HAVING YE BALLS IN THE PLACE THEY ARE NOW, YE'LL NOT SAY ANOTHER WORD! FETCH ME BUSTER! WE'RE GONNA HAVE A MOLE KILLING CONTEST!"

...

"NOOOOOOOOO-BODY KNOWS THE TROUBLE I'VE SEEN. NOOOOOOO-BODY KNOOOOOWS, BUT-"

"Oh, stop your caterwauling." snapped Thomas. "Come on, get on the flatbed Buster, you're needed. And we've officially hit a NEW LOW. I'd rather be dealing with the ruddy landslide than this. At least watching Max get injured is funny."

"WHOOP WHOOP!"

"NO whoop whoop, Buster! NO!"

"THIS IS WIZARD! YIPPEE!"

"I'd rather go back on the political circuit than deal with this." muttered Thomas under his breath as he took the over-excited steamroller to the pitch.

Buster was quickly set up at the gates, and waited for his orders. "MOLEHILLS! Those fellas be straight up dope to a fly roller like me! It's like a wiggety wiggety whack currant bun! ...Only green!""

"This is offending someone, somewhere." said Kelly, grimly.

And off Buster went. He did his thing, all the while shouting out lyrics from his upcoming new album, entitled 'They See Me Rolling'. It was...an experience.

Even the moles (Wearing striped hats and shirts because ?) were impressed.

"He's good."

"Very good."

To dissect that for a moment. This moment raises two very important theories. The first being that somehow, three moles popped up from the ground and the humans, rather than just leave them be, decided for no apparent reason to give them all tiny hats and scarfs to wear. Then the moles for some reason decided that yes, this seemed like something they wanted to do. Never mind why said people would have tiny hats and scarfs on them, unless their child was Tom Bloody Thumb!

Secondly, that underneath the Island of Sodor at present there lies a large mole civilization that allows them to appreciate the fine art of ruining their lovely holes, and for some reason includes knitting as a job that certain moles have to carry out, for how else did these bastards get the hats and scarfs!? It makes one wonder whether or not there's some sort of caste system in the HQ of the moles. Are there mole strippers? Mole prostitutes? What's the general consensus on mole clothing? Is it like the Pluto-Goofy situation where one dog is a relatively normal one and the other walks on two legs, wears clothes and has enough jobs to get into HILARIOUS accidents-Oh dear, I think I've overthought this slightly too much.

...

ACTUAL EXISTENTIAL BREAK.

...

Buster's smoke, by the by, was steaming proudly, and white and feathery...just...take our word for it. Because you can't see it here. Also despite this, his troller was still perfectly clean by the time he had finished. Almost like that wasn't dirt at all. And he was finished.

"WELL DONE!" said the coach. "Well, now you all get to bugger off, we're going to play!"

"EXCUSE ME?!" Miss Jenny stormed up. "I've been very restrained by not killing one of those FECKING MOLES because ye told me we wouldn't get paid! The least we get out of this is watching yer shitty team play a shitty game for shitting free! YE SHIT."

"The game's starting soon, I'd make up your mind quickly!" snapped Isabella.

Everyone congratulated Buster for a few seconds, and then ignored him. Even Miss Jenny, who palmed him off with a simple "YER REALLY USEFUL NOW BUGGER OFF!" but as Buster was a simple vehicle, he nodded and smiled dumbly.

And then he was taken home while the rest of the Pack hurriedly made their escape from the incoming footballers.

Dryaw won, by the by.

...

THE PRESENT.

Richard Hammond was beginning to wonder if it had been worth getting up today. He wondered that a lot when travelling with the Dickhead and the Slow Prat, but in this case, it was stronger than it had been before.

Jeremy arrived soon after. "Magnificent!" he said, beaming as he saw Oliver and Von Stig going at it like cats and dogs. "This is the stuff that Britain is made of!"

"Give me my car back."

"No."

"...Give it back!"

"No! It's, it's-"

"What need do you have for it-?"

"I don't have a car!"

"So? Take James's!"

"And listen to all that absolute rubbish he's got on there? I mean, we can't all be spokesperson for Supermarkets, can we?!"

"OH DON'T BRING THAT UP- What smells like pies?" Jeremy grinned at that, and opened up his-Richard's, he had to remind himself, boot. Richard gasped. "How many pies are in there!?"

"All of them."

"...Where is James, by the by?"

...

James May was cold, uncomfortable and growing steadily angrier at everything. He was very tempted to take the scooter and rev off into the night at a reasonable speed depending on the limit. But unfortunately, he was a man of principles. Like waiting at a red traffic light.

He was going to pummel Clarkson when next they met.

...

The battle was still going strong. Oliver's arm had been upgraded in the years since the first filming of the Pack. Now, he could change it without the need for anyone else. His claw, which he had dug into the side of the plane, quickly began to deconstruct and then reconstruct into a massive drill. Snarling, he swung it at the cockpit, landing a direct hit at the glass and drilling deeper and deeper in.

Norris Von Stig let out a sound that might have been a snarl, knocked off his music choice (Let's Go to Misterland by the classic 70's band, Myster-Men) and punched away the remaining glass. Switching the tank-jet to autopilot, he staggered out and glared down Oliver.

The knuckle-dusters glinted in the sunlight. For a moment, it was like a western.

"EN GUARDE!" roared Oliver, his arm changing now into a fencing sword for some reason.

Blade clashed with blade, Stig kicking Oliver in the face every chance he had, and the vehicle for some reason having a real issue fighting back.

At which point, the autopilot threw a fit and began to dive down towards the city.

Everyone assembled went, as a collective, very pale. And then began to scream.


	35. Episode 9: Nelson Gets Carried Away

Well...this is an episode. Bearing in mind, a lot of the middle episodes of the Pack are relatively meh, the visuals are nice, but the plot and music don't really work together. For that matter, while I am delivering something quality, I also want to get through this set of episodes as quick as I can. So I hope you can understand if these aren't as good as usual.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Well, I mean, quite.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : True, too true.

 **Bronze Shield:** Ha! Oh we'll definitely get some more of the Football stuff. As for the moles...eh, we'll see.

 **Game-Watch:** Eh, probably.

 **MattPrice01:** :D

 **JD145:** I do! He's very good. I haven't watched that much, but I like it.

 **UGX7:** I think so, yes! ...Still doesn't explain why he gave it to someone who didn't fly though.

 **AceHoneycomb:** Ha! Sounds great! If a bit weird, but then again, coming from me it's a bit hypocritical. XD. Also, yeah, the FAQ will be updated soon.

CUE THE...less than impressive theme music.

* * *

THE PAST.

It was-

SUMMER?!

AGAIN!?

UGH.

Summer on the Island of Sodor, yadda yadda yadda, beautiful trees, sun was shining, birds sing yadda yadda yadda and zippedy doo da, zippedy day, my oh my, what a wonderful day-CAN WE MOVE THIS ALONG, LADS?!

Percy likes being in the sun because it means he's not by Gordon or James. It also gives him a chance to say hello to his friends in the Pack. What friends, you ask? Exactly.

"Hello Nelson!"

"Who...WHO THE HELL IS THAT?!" wheezed Nelson, who was too busy having to haul the fat ass of Byron around to really notice anyone, or even honk his horn at the little green so and so. He was having a busy day, carrying machines everywhere. Oliver was a pain in the ass, even as they passed over what had been recycled from the Big Dipper, he was having an attack of the withdrawals and kept smacking the loader across the head.

Day after day, Nelson was carrying carrying carrying. This, understandably, leaves him in a rather cranky and vicious mood. As could be surmised from where Alfie wished him a good morning and Nelson told the excavator to do something biologically impossible for any human or vehicle to do.

"Just ONCE I'd like to be carried! By a hot vehicle, if possible!"

"HA! Dream on, you freak of natur-OAK TREE! THAT BASTARD. LEMME AT EM. I'LL...I'LL...OOOOOOH!"

And that was the start of another fun day for Nelson.

...

That night, he had a dream. That one day, all vehicles would be equal.

And also that he was floating above the ground like a magic carpet. With a strange maniacal grin of joy, he realized that he was being carried upon a flatbed hauled by the rest of the Pack who all appeared to be in great pain.

"HA HA! SO IT IS NELSON'S DAY, IS IT?! ROUSE YOURSELFS, LADS! TREMBLE BEFORE MY MIGHT!"

Then the dream got weird, as Nelson became the Prime Minister of Sodor and then waged war against the rest of the world. And then something about being set on fire and executed at the stake for pilfering government funds,

It was a very weird dream is what I'm saying.

"WAKE THE FECK UP YE DEAD WEIGHT! Thomas has had an accident like the fecking nonce that he is! So get yer arse shifted and deal with it! NOW! What are we, a SOUP KITCHEN FOR ENGINES!? BAH! THIS IS ALL THE FAULT OF THE GOVERNMENT."

"You will be the first to die to my reign!" hissed Nelson.

"Oh really? Well...DO YE WANT TO GO THE SAME WAY AS NIGEL, EH?!"

Nelson was off like a flash.

Miss Jenny didn't actually know what happened to Nigel. But it was a good threat nonetheless.

"How does this keep happening to me?" wondered Thomas to himself, as he stared down at the cracks in the road. "I pay my taxes...relatively speaking. Ow...goodbye Wheel. You had a good run."

"HA-HA! YOU LOOK SO STUPID!" shouted Nelson as he arrived.

"Oh piss off." said Thomas, wearily. "Is this what it's like to be Edward?"

"We'll get you back in no time! ...Said no one EVER!" mocked Nelson. But secretly he was nervous. He'd never carried a steam engine before, and he hadn't wanted to. Ever. And for some reason, there was no sign of Harvey or the Breakdown Crane.

Thomas's driver and Nelson's operator attached the winch to Thomas. "PHEW!" shouted Nelson. "FATSO! You, my big mate, are heavier than a steamroller and a bulldozer put together! TIMES TWO!"

"Charming. And this is what I get as karma for teasing all the others for so long." said a weary Thomas. At last, he was winched on after the most singularly uncomfortable experience of his life.

Soon Nelson was on his way. He had to work very hard to drag Thomas's fat arse to the Works, but he did so nonetheless without complaining once.

He complained fifty seven times. That we know of. They were, however, making excellent time.

"You're not...awful at carrying."

"Ta! ...BY HECK THOUGH." Nelson threw up on the side of the road and carried on.

"I pull trucks and coaches all day long! It's good to be carried for a change."

"Well aren't you LUCKY?!" hissed Nelson very, very loudly. "I wouldn't know! Who would be big enough to carry me? i suppose you are fat enough to do it!"

"It's really nice up here. Not that you'd know."

"Bite me."

Soon they arrived at the repair yard.

"Well done!"

"Thanks sir."

"No problem, Thomas."

"WHAT ABOUT ME!?" howled Nelson.

"Oh, er...don't know who you are? Erm...which one are you again? Packer?"

"That's Bob the Builder and you know it." hissed Nelson, rage filtering through his barely restrained voice.

"Ah who cares. You're a really useful truck, whoever you are." He turned to his bodyguard. "Dont look so surprised, it's a ruddy loader, you see them all the time!"

"EEK! A MOUSE!"

"SIMPKINS, YOU TWIT." Hatt shook his head. "He's new."

"Leave Thomas here, Miss Jenny strongly wants you back. Something about castrating me if I didn't hurry you along."

"Oh I'll drive as fast as I can. Just...let me rest."

"No worries. I've arranged something for you!"

"I'M TAKING YOU!"

"Indoor voice, Percy, indoor voice."

"Oh that woman." winced Carlin, nursing some bruised ribs. "How we're going to f**k each other later I'll never know."

"TMI, Carlin. TMI."

...

"Ta lads!"

It was magical for Nelson to relax and watch the scenery go on by. True, Carlin did ruin it a little bit by letting out rowdy songs about sailors in close quarters at sea, but it was the thought that counted.

"Lovely day!"

"Damn right!"

Nelson enjoyed himself.

Right up til the part where he found out that the series had taken a slashing in the budget and that he wasn't going to be in any more episodes.

They had to carry him off then, too.

...

THE PRESENT.

As the traffic light turned green, James May started the scooter up again, and managed to travel a grand total of two more minutes on it before the scooter threw a fit, threw him off and threw itself into the sweet embrace of death.

"Well that's just perfect!" sighed James, as he sat in the mud and reflected on his life. He wondered vaguely if he would ever achieve his ultimate goal of making a house built entirely out of lego. Or if he and his mate Oz should go on the road again and do something related to wine. He could use a drink, that was for sure. He glanced down at the scooter's satnav.

According to this, he was currently somewhere in China.

Well, he thought glumly, there goes my hopes of going to the BAFTA's on time.

"Hello?"

James looked up towards the talking vehicle. If this was what death looked like, he was tired of running. "Hello."

"...You're one of those Top Gear lot, right?"

"Yes. And you're one of the Bob the Builder crew."

"...Sure. Let's say that's the case. ...Fancy a drink?"

"Where're the rest of your friends?"

"They lost me...it's fine. I think I actually know a secret way into the BAFTA's if you want."

"...You know what, live and let live is my motto." James nodded to Ned. "Let's go!"

As they moved off, they failed to notice the loud explosion from behind them. They also didn't see Oliver and Van Stig, still fighting like maniacs, fly from the wreckage and continue their battle in the same place that James and Ned had been seconds ago.

"You've lost, Mr Carrot!" crowed Oliver, still high on...everything. "Why don't you just give up now?" Von Stig hesitated for a moment...then shrugged, and burrowed underneath the ground. Oliver paused, scratched his head, and then let out a whoop of triumph. "I AM TEH GREATEST!" He bellowed. And no, that is not a spelling error. He literally shouted those words exactly to the world.

And as the others began to group up and turned...there was a loud roar, and once more the ground began to rumble.

Jeremy and Richard, who were still shooting the shit, turned around and glanced back.

At which point, everything seemed to shatter and rise up, street, houses, vehicles, the lot, as something arose from it.

It was Von Stig.

Or at least, it had the likeness of Von Stig. If Von Stig was now roughly the size of Big Ben's clock tower. And with every movement, he made a rather audible clanking noise.

"THOSE JAPANESE CARTOONS WERE RIGHT! Truly, this is the end of the world!" wept Max and/or Monty.

"ACQUIRING TARGETS. ...THIRTEEN TARGETS SELECTED."

"But there are only eleven of these idiots here." said a rather confused Clarkson.

"Yeah! ...Unless you count us." remarked Hammond, off hand.

Both men took a moment to realize what the other had just said. And then they looked back at the NorrisTron 6000. And then they began to scream very, very loudly a single word.

"COOOOOOOOOOOOCCCCKK!"

...

"And the nominees for Best Music in a Show No One cares about are as follows-"

"Good luck, James."

"Good luck, Ned."

"...Where do you think the others are?"

"Having fun, no doubt, selfish bastards. On an unrelated note, can anyone smell burning?"


	36. Episode 10: The Tortoise and the Hare

Yadda yadda yadda, The Pack, yadda yadda yadda yadda, almost there. Yadda. Yadda. Yadda. QUESTION TIME. Also, ending scene is smaller than usual, as I'm having to pace myself for the last three episodes. Sorry!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Probably!

 **Reality Rejection Service** : I have here a exact statement from Thomas D Tancengine. Ahem. "IT'S HELL ON EARTH." ...So, that probably answers your question.

 **Bronze Shield:** Fireman Sam is definitely going to get name checked at the very least! As for Fifi and the Flowertots, I've not got much of an idea for them as of yet, but I would like to incorporate them at some point. Just for the sheer randomness of it all.

 **Game-Watch:** I'm trying my best, the material's not the best. XD.

 **MattPrice01:** My series officially went off track WAAAAAAY long ago. XD. Still, really glad you're enjoying it thus far.

 **JD145:** Originally he was going to stay at Shining Time for the rest of the series, save maybe coming back in Season 12 to die as it was around that time that George Carlin died in real life.

 **UGX7:** It's very complex, I agree.

 **Radical sandwiches:** YEP.

 **Kamen Rider Necom:** That's a fair reaction to have.

 **Guest:** Glad you're enjoying it!

CUE THE...less than impressive theme music.

* * *

Here's a question for you. Buster the steamroller loves...what?

A: Speed

B: The sun on his back

C: The wind on his rollers

D: Making a dope new track

E: Not being laughed out of hte yard

F: All of the above.

The answer, of course, is F. But for the record, we'll be focusing mostly on the first three. And as Thomas pushed him along the branch-line one morning, he closed his eyes and rested.

"Don't fall asleep. The bitch will most likely try and eat you if you hold up work for longer than two seconds."

"I'm thinking, dawg!"

"You know Buster, this is getting really old. Can't you go back to acting like...oh I don't know, a person?"

"Nah!"

"Fair enough, just wanted to put it out there."

Buster was dreaming of what it would be like to win a race. He had very boring dreams, it was fair to say.

"And here we are the- SODOR RACETRACK!? When the HELL did we get one of those!?" cried the tank engine in great distress. "Has the world gone BARMY?!"

The Pack were finishing off the track today. What that meant for everyone else, no one was sure. Primarily because there wasn't going to be many people able to use it. Unless they wanted to revive SodF1 (SodorFormula-1), which had been a disaster the last time they had tried it.

No one was still sure how Terrance had even entered that race, let alone won it.

Buster flattened the track around the final bend, still in his dream world. "And the winner is Buster! The fastest steamroller in the world! Gimme those babes!" Good Start Batteries would give him a sponsorship, and then everyone would like him and be his friend-

"WASSUP WITH THIS?! Get on with it, you...you...POSER!" Max sneered at him.

"Varoom! Varoom!"

"He's flipped! You think you're fast?!"

"If you go any slower, you'll be going backwards!"

Buster didn't care.

Miss Jenny came to inspect the site when it was done. "Bah! It'll do! Yer a good crew...for arsing about! To hell with it, I'm going for a smok- Ah, shite! Has that bastard left his pants here AGAIN?!"

No one wanted to think about Carlin's pants.

"Ah, shite, he can suffer for all I care! ...Well, let's give this...this DOG'S BREAKFAST OF A RACETRACK a test!"

"ME! Me me me! I am the fastest steamroller in the world! Also, the dopest, but that's besides the point!"

"More like the slowest."

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

"Sick burn, am I right, Monty?!"

"Damn right!"

Miss Jenny groaned. It was a long day. "FECK ME NAVEL WITH A PRIZE WINNING CORGETTE, SHUT THE FECK UP! Ye now what? Buster, that's fair enough! All three of you on the track. Loser dies, winner gets to live for another day or so! If I'm in a grateful mood, which ye know is not likely in the slightest! Oh, and because I have to deliver a fecking moral like I'm one of those Watch with Mother CHAVS...No speeding! I don't want them feckers at the traffic court to give me hell over this! They've already got a deposit on the land-rover, and they ain't fecking having any more of me property."

"Yes Miss Jenny." said the trucks. They were lying of course. They were going to be as fast as they liked.

This, boys and girls, is what we call foreshadowing. Remember it well.

...

They waited for the foreman, who had been bullied into doing this, to give the all clear signal.

"I'm riggity riggity ready!"

"You couldn't beat a snail!" sneered Max.

"Not even a sleepy snail!" added Monty.

"Which as we know, are the worst of all snails."

"THE. Worst."

The foreman raised his flag...and then dropped it.

Milliseconds later, he jumped back and screamed as Max and Monty only just managed to avoid knocking his block off. As they sped off, Buster casually ambled forward. Oh hold on, I mean, Buster used his full speed to propel himself forward.

"You jumped the signal!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"So what if I did! WE'RE REBELS, MATE!"

Buster went as fast as his rollers could take him. Which wasn't very fast at all. Elsewhere, cobwebs began to grow over the rest of the vehicles, while Thomas wondered if he hadn't been too harsh on Bertie. At least theirs had actually been...well...exciting. He gave a casual glance as Monty bashed into Max. And then Max bashed into Monty.

And so on and so forth.

"YOU'VE DENTED ME! YOU SON OF A GUN!"

"Then get out of my way, suckaaaaaa!"

"It's like watching toddlers fight." was Thomas's weary review.

Seconds later, there was a loud crack. Both Max and Monty had tried to hit each other and smacked each other right into a ditch.

"Karma." droned Oliver. This was so boring not even drugs could make it exciting. Buster trundled happily on and passed them. And another civilization died and rotted as he did so.

"Moo!" said Champion, licking his lips.

"OOOOH!" said the twins, and they struggled backwards. They did not want to be bull chow. They also didn't want anyone to notice their mistake. Unfortunately, that ship had already sailed.

"If we lose to him, we're never going to live this down."

"Like...ever."

Five thousand years after the race had started, or so it felt, Buster ambled round the corner towards the finish line.

"Hooray for Buster. Hooray." said the machines, very enthusiastically as you can tell by their voices.

"Oh shit."

"It can't be!"

It could, though.

Buster was over the finish line, and seconds later, the two trucks were still arguing over whose fault this was.

"I CAME SECOND!"

"THIRD!"

"Well I think we all know who came first! I did!" said Carlin, before hurrying off before the inevitable scandalous gasps of horror could take effect.

"Well, I may have brought a steamroller here, but I'm taking a champion back. Albeit a champion who would not essentially win in anything resembling a real race. Also, SINCE WHEN DID WE HAVE A RACETRACK!?"

"Track is fecking safe without speeding! Now, where's that man of mine?!"

"Don't tell her I'm here!" hissed a pantless Carlin, as he hid on the floor of Thomas's cab.

"VAROOM VAROOM!"

"Oh you think you're a f**king comedian, Buster!?" Carlin was not aware that Buster didn't even know what a single entendre was, never mind a double one.

And the twins were still arguing as they left. Buster would soon enter the next F-1 event. He came 9th.

Out of five.

His career was finished after that, understandably.

...

THE PRESENT.

"So I wonder what's going on right now?" said James, looking very happily at his three BAFTA's.

"Not sure. Probably they're having fun." Ned said, looking quite sadly at his lack of BAFTA's. James paused, and then begrudgingly handed one over to him. It was the smallest one. He had been intending to give to Hammond as a joke, but Ned seemed a fair sort of chap. Ned beamed.

"Probably." James agreed.

...

"OH GOD THIS IS NOT FUN AT ALL PLEASE HELP OH EVERYTHING BURNS."

...

"The best of fun!"


	37. Episode 11: Another Fine Mess

Hey, arguably one of the funnier episodes of the show! And of Thomas in general, I'd be so bold as to suggest. Also it gives a nice bit of spotlight on Ned, and his sudden delight at being able to destroy things legally. ...So, two more episodes left! That's fun!

 **AaronCottrell97:** It does have some funny moments in it, I'll grant you.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : That he is, friend. That he is.

 **Bronze Shield:** I like the way you think!

 **Game-Watch:** Buster is so slow that even non-existent people can beat him.

 **MattPrice01:** Trust me, SodF1 will return in some shape and/or form. It's a really nice idea. Pretty much with regards to TG.

 **JD145:** An interesting question! I think the main problem with the Pack episodes is that they barely use the characters that I have become most comfortable writing with, so I have to struggle with that. And also, a lot of the characters are fairly small compared to the proper characters. So this is harder for me, but I will struggle through!

 **UGX7:** A very good comparison! ...Mind, even I can't write a character as insane as he can. Sooooo...I'll take that as praise!

 **Radical sandwiches:** There's several craters where they spent their dates.

 **Kamen Rider Necom:** Yep. ...GOD I MISS THE MAIN SERIES.

CUE THE...less than impressive theme music.

* * *

Thomas was taking his friend Ned-

"Friend is a strong word, Mr Narrator, so...can we cut back on it, please?"

"I don't mind you not using that word, Thomas."

"Shut up, Ned, no one cares about you!"

"Tell me something I don't know. Anyway, I get to demolish stuff! ...Aside from everyone's hopes and dreams."

Yes, Thomas was taking his frie...Right, right, sorry. He was taking Ned to the old brickworks. Thomas hadn't even known they had had an old brickworks until the Fat Controller had told him about said old brickworks, so now they were going to the old brickworks. Brickworks is a fun word, so I'm using it as much as I can before it gets old. "Demolish? As in-?"

"Knocking buildings down, yes!" Ned was very happy to do so. "It's the first time my quirk can be used for something that might make Miss Jenny love me!"

"...Wow. Way to bring the whole mood down, Ned!"

"Sorry! Didn't mean to!"

"You weirdos. Always knocking shit down!" Thomas said no more until they arrived at said brickworks. Miss Jenny had already shown the foreman the plans, and after being assured that his wife would not be killed as long as he agreed to do everything she said, he agreed that these were smart indeed.

"It's time to get to work! And remember-"

"Safety first!"

"No, actually, I was going to say remember that if ye fail at this, I will come to yer sheds late at night. And I will murder ye...just a friendly bit of advice!"

...

"I can't wait to get started on demolishing this building!"

"HA! Oh Ned! You and your dreams! You're not here for that, you're here for cleaning up the rubble! ...HOLY SHIT A MOUSE MADE OUT OF COTTON CANDY! STAY THERE MOUSE AND LET ME CHECK YOU!" Oliver trundled off towards a very confused Hawkeye, who wondered why he was licking his lips like that.

His dreams shattered, Ned glumly got to work on filling up Thomas's trucks. Today it wouldn't have mattered that he was a complete klutz. But no. Some things weren't meant to be.

Oliver, meanwhile, had had his wrecking ball attachment put on his arm. He took a few swings and nearly crushed Thomas beneath it. This is why construction vehicles doing drugs are bad, kids.

Miley Cyrus, watching this later, got the idea for a little known song from this. Don't know if you've ever heard of it.

"MR OLIVER, TEAR DOWN THIS WALL! ...Sorry. Erm, knock this wall down first. And then we'll go from there."

"Right ho, Mr Paper Mache!"

"W-What?"

"Here we go! Stand back please!" As soon as they had stood back, he swung his arm back...and then swung the ball towards the wall.

There was a soft 'crack' as it hit the wall. And nothing.

"...Hmm."

"...Bit more welly?"

"I don't have wellies! I have a wrecking ball!" And he swung it as hard as he could. The dust shook off the wall...and nothing again.

"Hmmmmmmmmmmm."

"We need a bigger wrecking ball!"

"Yes, I was about to say, it's a bit...small, isn't it?"

"It's not the size." growled the foreman.

"Unless yer that feckless layabout Carlin in which case, yes, it very much is the size." laughed Miss Jenny, who was busy on her smoke break. Somewhere, Carlin felt like his masculinity was being punched in the face, dragged out of a car and left to freeze to death.

Soon, the bigger ball was fixed to Oliver's arm. He swung it, and...

He hit it.

And still, the wall did not fall.

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm." said Oliver, who was beginning to have a moment of crisis.

"Can I help-?"

"BUGGER OFF NED, NO ONE CARES! This is Oliver's job and he's going to do it whether he wants to or not!"

"Oh. Okay." Ned was disappointed.

"This is like hitting goddamn titanium!" shouted Oliver's operator. "And just as practical!" The foreman was also checking the wall.

"Right! SEND FOR THE BIGGEST BALL THERE IS!"

...

After rejecting a beach ball, a bowling ball and a basketball, the foreman clarified that he wanted a 'wrecking' ball. And so he got one. The biggest, baddest ball that could be found. And Ned was back putting rubble in Thomas's trucks.

In theory, anyway.

"NED! Rubble in the trucks!"

"Sorry." said Ned, glumly.

"AND STOP APOLOGIZING! Grow a backbone!"

"Sorry."

"...UGH! This is why no one likes you!"

Oliver swung backwards, his arm pitched like a baseball player throwing a ball, and he launched the ball forward with all his might towards the wall.

Nothing.

In the stunned silence, Oliver could be faintly heard to scream "OH COME THE SHIT ON!" It appears this leap in logic was too much, even for the resident drug abuser.

"I think we should give it up as a lost cause." murmured the operator.

"If we did that, then half of our jobs would be unfinished somewhere."

Ned, meanwhile, was in his own world where he was allowed to knock down all the buildings he wanted. And to be fair to him, it didn't help that Hawkeye wasn't looking until it was too late. As he was wont to do.

"What the- LOOK OUT!"

Ned hit the side of the chimney with a crunch.

There was a long pause, long enough for everyone to think that everything was going to be a-okay. Just as the bricks fell and the chimney rocked, the foreman and the rest of the people hid in large barrels of engine ash.

"WHAT ABOUT US!?" shouted Oliver. No one listened to him.

"Ohhhhhhhh so this is how it ends." said a rather deadened Thomas.

At which point, the chimney toppled over like one magnificent domino, smashing through the roof of the brickworks, taking out several cars and other such things left inside. A second later, wall after all popped it's clogs repeatedly, joining the pile of bricks and mortar on the ground.

There was a momentary pause.

"Oops." said Ned. For what else could one say in a situation such as this?

"HOORAY!" said the workmen.

"OW!" said Oliver. Tile and brick after tile and brick rained down from the sky. "OW!"

And again.

"OW!"

And again.

"OW!"

And again.

"OW!"

And again.

"OW!"

And again.

"OW!"

At which point, the original wall finally decided to give up the ghost and crumpled into a dead heap, much like Thomas had the second the chimney had hit the ground. On the plus side, his trucks were very much full.

"OW!"

"I DID IT! ME! NED! I AM VICTORIOUS! IS THIS WHAT WINNING FEELS LI- Oh hi, Oliver. Want me to break anything else?"

"OW! ...No. You've done enough! This is the reason why I do drugs, you know!"

And the moral of the story is...

You know what? Make up your own.

...

In the sewers, the Pack and both JC and RH huddled together and waited for a sign that the robot had moved on. Said sign was taking it's sweet ass time, and tensions were running high.

"DICKHEAD!"

"YANKEE LOVER!"

"PRETENTIOUS!"

"Druggie!"

"Asshole!"

"ANTI-CEMENTITE!"

At last, Hammond blasted Oliver's horn and drew everyone's attention. "All right! All right! Look, we don't like each other."

"I HATED YOU ON BRANIAC: SCIENCE ABUSE!" screamed Max. Or possibly Monty, but really, who cares? Hammond bit back that gaping wound, as he had assumed that everyone loved him in everything he ever did...ever. But there were more important things now than his overly wounded pride.

"But I think we can all agree that we like Norris Von Stig a hell of a lot less! So, how about we put our massive and considerably powerful dicks to one side for a moment...and whatever the hell small thing Jeremy's packing, stop fighting with them, and figure a way out of this. Because the way this is going, we're not going to make it to the BAFTA's."

"Oh, THAT'S what you're most concerned about?!" cried a frustrated Isabella.

"Well, I do have one plan!" Jeremy beamed. "And it is rather cunning, if I may say so!"

"...I'm terrified already."

Clarkson was about to explain this plan, when there was an all mighty crash from above. Everyone froze. Had something hit the earth? Had Norris begun the task of smashing away at the pavement? Had the end of the world come already?

In reality, it was the sound of Norris Von Stig tripping over his feet and hitting the ground face first.

There were still some Norris jeans left in there, after all.

And so they began to brace themselves for a final attack.


	38. Episode 12: Alfie Has Kittens

HOLY SHIT THIS IS THE SECOND TO LAST ONE YOU GUYS...Ahem. Also this one somehow breaks the time continuum with it's use of location, but that just makes it funnier in my opinion.

 **AaronCottrell97:** You're not wrong there!

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Indeed!

 **Bronze Shield:** Hope it lives up to your expectations!

 **Game-Watch:** Indeed! Who does not love to smash?!

 **MattPrice01:**.The Norris Awards would be a disastrous affair indeed. All those Norrises gathering in one place has been rumored to be the main cause of the apocalypse. XD.

 **JD145:** It's fine. Not great, but it's good. I'm enjoying it! ...Not entirely sure why they felt the need to bring Bulgy back, but hey, it is what it is.

 **UGX7:** He's really good! I enjoy his Star Trek stuff a lot.

 **Radical sandwiches:** :D

 **Kamen Rider Necom:** Indeed!

CUE THE...less than impressive theme music.

* * *

It was another...yawn, beautiful day on the...yawn, Island of Sodor. Yadda yadda yadda, sun shining and so forth. Thomas was bringing his friend/chum/co-worker/co-star/waste of space/drain on everything/person, Alfie, to a demolition site.

"AGAIN!?" I hear you cry? Yes. Again.

As they pulled in, Thomas did a double take. He could have sworn he was here only an episode ago. "Hang about...we just...didn't we?"

"HELLO!" said Jack, excitedly. "ISN'T THIS FUN!?"

"We were just here a day ago? How...how is that all the way back up? I could have sworn-" Thomas appeared to be breaking at the sudden realization that time had become royally screwed up the arse. Not least because he briefly thought he was back in the nineteen eighties again. He craved a cigarette for the first time in ages. "I guess everyone likes demolition!? ...Like we did last time? Remember?! ANYONE?!"

"I love demolition! It's when we get to knock buildings down!"

"I KNOW. I WAS HERE. ...And that's supposed to be fun...how?"

"BECAUSE IT IS!"

"You know, I'm beginning to think that spending this year with you lot has severely damaged my ability to reason, so I'm just going to sit here and wait for the world to right itself. ...WE WERE HERE YESTERDAY?! ...Oliver! OH MY GOD, WHERE IS OLIVER!? NED?!"

"WA-HEY!" Alfie shot off the back and reversed towards the building, and the oncoming Max.

"WATCH IT, YOU SMALL FRY! Or I'll pound you!"

"I'M NOT A SMALL FRY! I'M A BIG MAC!"

"I'm not loving it." said Thomas, who had many, many questions. Alfie was sent to work with Ned, which he was pleased with. Ned was the only one more pathetic than either he or Jack. He couldn't make fun of him for being small.

He could, however, swing his bucket right into Alfie's arm. "WATCH IT! YEAH YEAH YEAH!"

"Sorry!" said Ned, cheerfully. "I didn't see you there! You're smaller than you look!"

No one was quite sure if Ned was being deliberately insulting or not. As it was, Alfie felt rather betrayed. It was like being bitten by a well loved pair of slippers. Thomas, meanwhile, roared at Ned about "YOU LITERALLY DESTROYED THIS SITE YESTERDAY!?" before someone came to his assistance with a massive sedative.

...

The lot of them began to work hard. Alfie loaded up the two trucks, as they began to trade back and forth half-baked insults.

"Hurry up, half pint!"

"Not half pint! Small fry! HA! WITTY!"

"...No, no, no. Don't think you know what that word means." said the depressed excavator. The workmen chose this time to have a tea break, because of course they did. Thomas could see that Alfie was being...

Well...a whiny bitch, as he had cynically come to think of it.

"What's wrong?" he asked more out of obligation to get this whole thing over with faster than anything else.

"I don't like being small!"

"...Well tough shit. I'm small. As long as you're useful, it doesn't really matter. But if you're not, Miss Jenny is totally with her rights to kill you. ...Okay, I'm aware that that is incredibly dark even by my standards, so...sorry about that?"

Alfie thought about this for a moment. "That all sounds a bit like shit."

"It does." agreed Thomas.

"BREAK'S OVER! Come on, let's while away a bit more time until our deaths!" said Kelly, cheerfully.

Toby arrived moments later to check on Thomas. "Edward's sent you this lunch. He would have brought it himself, but he has actual work to be doing. Joking, joking. I know you're stuck here until filming ends."

"Pain in the arse."

"You like them really."

"No, shut up."

"You do. You do!"

"Toby!"

Toby laughed, and departed cheerfully. Thomas turned and watched as Alfie helped Oliver demolish a building- "OH COME ON!" he shouted. "WE JUST DID THIS ALREADY!"

Oliver's giant scissor claw grabbed hold of the building, and began to pull at it. The entire section of bricks, without crumpling into individual ones, began to shift. Thomas was skeptical."Huh. I don't think that's how physics work, or whatever, but-"

There was a loud crash as the entire front of the house collapsed onto the ground, and dust rose everywhere. He was about to do it again, when Alfie suddenly shot forward.

"STOP! IN THE NAME OF LOVE! I can hear something!"

"Is it the soul of the audience dying?" asked the cameraman. He hadn't been to film school for THIS! But everyone stopped and listened. Nothing.

"Already checked it out. Nothing's in there! Except a lot of broken dreams." said the foreman.

"The small fry's lost it!"

"I HAVE NOT! I HEARD SOMETHING!"

"Besides, he never even had it in the first place." murmured Thomas under his breath. The foreman glanced in and started.

"RUDDY NORA. There's a mother cat in here! And she's got kittens! ...How the hell did we miss this?! Who searched that area of the building?"

"I did, sir!" said Hawkeye.

No more explanation was needed.

"We must rescue them! And by we, I mean me, because it's my episode this time, yeah yeah yeah!"

"It's not safe in there. If I send my men in-"

"I SHALL DO IT!" Alfie puffed out his chest, or tried to, heroically. "I'm small enough to fit in! And also I'm STUPID enough to do it!" And before anyone could say anything, he darted in through the hole opened up.

As the building began to come apart around him, he held out his scoop. "Here kitty kitty kitty!"

Cats, however, are bastards. They didn't move into the scoop. instead, the mother simply began to groom herself. Much like James, it was cute for the first minute or so, and then everything from thereon was just downhill from there. Alfie growled, and then screeched as the wall began to fall.

"HURRY KITTY KITTY!"

Too late though. Alfie shoved his scoop around them as the wall came tumbling down. He winced in pain, and for a moment he thought he had failed. Then, without any care, the cat miaowed.

"This was a really stupid idea!" called out Thomas.

...

"Well, I mean, I would have just left them ta die, but what the feck do I know about this stuff? Ye did a grand job, and this is a fine family of kittens...look good enough to eat." Miss Jenny looked around at the horrified faces. "I'm joking, I'm joking, feck's sake, get a sense of humor!"

"I couldn't have rescued them if I had been any bigger!"

"No one cares, Alfie." said Thomas, grumpily.

"You may be small, but...er, hold on, let me check my fortune cookie. Uh, let's see...no, that one's racially insensitive. And that one's related to love. And that one just seems to have been written by a crackhead. Ah, here we go! Uh, you may be small, but you've got a big heart! ...Or a big arse, it's hard to tell." Kelly shrugged. "Either way, good job, team."

"Oh, you're really useful, I guess." said an exhausted Thomas. He wanted to go home and have his tea.

Everyone cheered, just so that Alfie would shut up. And he did. He never complained about being small again.

He complained about a shit ton of other stuff, though. And he was ignored every single time!

So a happy ending for all, then.

...

Norris was dazed. Yet as he stood there, he quickly realized that everyone was standing, facing him.

It was tense. It was dramatic. All it was really missing was a tumbleweed with an incredibly thick and annoying American accent rolling across and cutting any tension away like a studio with a troublesome movie.

...Look, I'm still a little bitter, all right?

"ATTACK!" roared Jack, never one for subtly. Or tactics. Or anything smart.

And so they charged. Stig was the first to land a blow, slashing at Oliver's face to force back his greatest foe from the battlefield. It worked, but no sooner had this happened than Kelly roared around, smacking the helmeted figure back. A normal man might have fallen, but some said that this tame racing driver bones were made of pure titanium, and that his pain receptors only worked when watching bad telenovellas. All they knew is, he was called Von Stig, and he did not fall to anyone.

He stood up and charged once more. This time, Nelson swung round, his flatbed exposed. Von Stig tried to put on his brakes, but his feet carried him straight on up and onto the flatbed. He paused, and made to turn, only to get double attacked by twin buckets. Alfie and Jack smacked him back and forth like a ping pong ball, before Nelson revved around and sent Von Stig flying into Isabella, who rammed into him at full speed.

"DON'T! SCRATCH! MY! PAINT!" she screamed, driving on and on towards a wall. Stig realized that one of his knuckledusters was stuck in the gap between the wood and the chassis. With a noise that might have been an annoyed grunt, he detached it from his hand and rolled backwards, letting Isabella hit the wall.

But still he was being pursued. Max and Monty moved as one, revving and rattling around, using their lights to blind and confuse the masked man. This would have worked, had Monty not got the idea that Max was mocking him for the size of his light, before ramming his brother off to the side. Von Stig took this chance to activate a rather unusual feature of his suit.

Camouflage!

It was a pity, therefore, that the beating had malfunctioned slightly. So that instead of blending into the wall, he instead became the color of bark.

Or more specifically, old oak tree bark.

It was even worse luck that Byron happened to see it.

Von Stig was flattened several times over the course of the next few minutes. All the while growing crosser and crosser. Eventually, he decided to solve this problem by using Byron as a battering ram to smack the rest of the Pack backwards towards the street again.

Seconds later, Patrick grinned triumphantly as he encased the fighter in a ton of cement. "This is how it ends for all of us!" he crowed. "This is the time of judgemen-" And that was as far as he got before Stig burst through the prison, and shoved Patrick backwards as well.

He took a wobbly step forward. He could do this. Of course he could. He was Norris Von Stig. He could do anything.

What he had yet to realize was that while the Pack had acted as a distraction, Hammond had had enough time to sneak into the Norristron and, after a moment of struggling with what the controls were, had worked out how to raise the robot up.

Or more specifically, how to use it's hand.

Norris turned just in time to see the hand blot out the sun...and then everything went black as it crashed down full force on him.

Jeremy finally emerged from the sewers, where he had been tinkering with something all this time. "Oh. So my plan isn't needed then? ...What am I going to do with this bomb?"

Everyone stared at the rapidly counting down clock on front of the bomb.

And everyone screamed.


	39. Episode 13: Mud, Glorious Mud

AND IT'S DONE. IT'S DONE IT'S DONE IT'S DONE. VICTORY FOR TOONGUY, HE'S DONE IT. ...Ahem. Keep reading until the very end of this chapter and hey, we're going to get into FUN STUFF NEXT TIME. I hope. XD.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yep.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : You're not actually that far off. XD.

 **Bronze Shield:** THANK. GOD.

 **Game-Watch:** He's lived on the Island of Sodor for too long. Yeah, you and me both.

 **MattPrice01:** Because you are a logical human being who knows Top Gear well. XD.

 **JD145:** :D

 **UGX7:** I'm very conflicted on the matter. On the one hand, WOW THEY ACKNOWLEDGED IT. On the other hand, HOW LONG HAS HE BEEN SENTIENT FOR!?

 **Radical sandwiches:** *nods sagely*

 **Kamen Rider Necom:** I guess...I did it first.

 **Acehoneycomb:** I have plans! ...Mwahahaha.

CUE THE...less than impressive theme music.

* * *

"What do ye mean 'we're not getting a full series', ye bitch!? YE PROMISED US-" Britt put down the phone and let Miss Jenny rant on for the next hour.

She was too tired to even bother with this woman.

Carlin had the same feeling. It had been fun the first two times. Now it was getting depressingly obvious how little she respected him. He still hadn't got a clean pair of pants back.

This was it.

This was the day when he ended it all.

After all, what could go wrong?

...

"Oh, do I really have to go out and shoot? In this weather?!"

"Yes."

"Ohhhhhhhh cripes."

It was a miserable day on the Island of Sodor. Rain lashed down, and the entire Island appeared to have become muddy overnight. So gripping the rails was even harder than it usually was. Thomas was glad he didn't have to work in the mud like Miss Jenny's lot. But he was still being dragged out of his nice warm shed for some stupid reason, and being forced to sit around and wait for shenanigans to happen.

The machines were, in this case, digging up some foundations for the new dairy barn. One would wonder why, but then again, not much thought went into the general planning of the Island in general.

This meant digging up mud.

A lot of it.

Isabella was having a nightmare. "Gross. Gross. Ughhhhh, so gross!" She growled as she began to slalom around the holes and puddles like an expert. Get her paint dirty? Never!

"HURRY, HURRY, HURRY UP!" said Not-Muck. "You always take the slooooooow route around, you boring person!"

"Excuse me, I take the clean way around. And at least I look fairly presentable!"

"Something I-...Hang on." Alfie frowned as his engine spluttered, groaned, did three backflips and then died painfully. "HELP! Oh! IS THIS DEATH!?"

At which point, Max and/or Monty, Oliver, Byron (Still grinning, by the by, for some reason) and Jack spluttered, staggered and stopped. Trevor, meanwhile, shouted in earnest for someone to let him out of the large shed. This prank had officially ceased to be funny.

"NO MORE BUCKET BOUNCING FOR ME." wailed Jack.

"Without more of that fecking good shit, we're all fecked! ...Oh, and also the petrol, I suppose. The farmers will have me guts for fancy hairnets if we don't keep their fecking cows happy! Foreman! Get the fuel trucks on the line, and tell them to hurry the feck up, or I'll skin their legs and make them into fine silk stockings for me niece!"

"Uh, yes, that's...not going to happen."

"Ye'd be surprised how easy it is to skin someone!"

"No, I meant...wait, what? ...Er, anyway, the fuel truck's broken down. Pretty convenient if you ask me.

"FECK. FEEEEEECK. ...Get me the Fat One!"

...

"Thomas, fuel. Get it to Miss Jenny now. She said that apparently there's quite a lot of fat that she can take off and still keep me alive. I'm not testing her today." Hatt looked pale. Thomas sympathized immensely. "I gather something's going wrong."

"Oh, imagine that!" crowed Gordon. Henry and James ignored this and carried on working, determined to not be dragged into this mess.

Thomas sighed. "Fine. FINE. Of course, sir. ...Salty, what are you doing here?"

"Aaaaar! Getting in me cameo for thar season, lad! Gotta get an extra hundred on me contract! Ain't that so, Polly?"

"RAWK!"

"Smart." Thomas muttered in grudging appreciation, and set off.

...

"Good thing the fecking steamers don't use diesel!"

"Uh, that's actually our word." said Isabella, nervously.

"Just for that, yer're going to go off and meet up with that sparkly blue prat in tights, Thomas. Off with ye! And be careful! Ye're worth a lot to me...literally. Like Nigel was."

"Ta." said Isabella, grumpily, ignoring the threat completely.

"Or you could just let me out." growled Trevor. Everyone ignored him. As she gritted her gears, Isabella set off for the destination they had agreed on, Cronk Station was not an awfully long way to go, she supposed. She paused as she saw the open road.

It was flooded.

"Oh, you better worship me like a Queen for this!" she growled, and slowly chugged on through the water. Every lapping of water against her side made her feel like she was about to throw up. However, at last, she forced herself through.

"Well, I hope that's the last of-"

She paused as she looked at where there had once been a road, which now appeared to just be a seething mass of mud.

"-it."

...

Thomas was steaming as fast as he could to meet Isabella, who was trundling along at a similar speed. Both wanted to get this over with as soon as enginely possible.

Then Isabella saw someone standing there.

"STOP! There's been a mudslide, the road's been blocked-"

"Sir Topham Hatt? Why are you dressed up like a policeman?"

"...I'm...I'm not Sir Topham Hatt."

"Really."

"No, of course I'm not! I...I'm a real policeman! ...You never saw this!" And he jumped over a bush, ran away and didn't mention the incident again.

Isabella blinked. "Weird." She sighed. "Okay. So that way's blocked...so we're going to have to go through that field."

She looked at the field. It looked, to be blunt, like someone had a grudge against it and had taken revenge on it in a very gory way. Isabella swallowed. "I hate this." she said to no one in particular.

The next few minutes were quite possibly the most agonizing moments in Isabella's life. Mud clung to her like limpets clinging to rocks, every so often her wheels slipped and skidded, a few times they even sank into the mud completely. And all the while, she came up with a little mantra that she repeated over and over again.

"I HATE MY LIFE. I HATE IT. I HATE IT."

But she wouldn't give up. She was completely knackered by the time she pulled into Cronk Station and staggered besides Thomas, who looked at her in alarm.

"Isabella! You...are you all right?"

"NO. NO I AM NOT." She was on the verge of a complete breakdown. "I'm only just hanging on so please just give me the frigging barrels!"

They were hurriedly removed and slapped onto her back. She was off like a shot.

...

"Well this is fun!" snapped Kelly.

"Eeny-meenie-miney-mo-"

"Oh piss off, Alfie." said a weary Oliver. He couldn't even reach to grab just one single bong. Truly these were dark times.

...

The journey back was just as fun for Isabella. She happened to crash through three pig-stys, a ruck carrying compost and one or two minor flash floods. And as she arrived, she was keenly aware that she was making a terrible squelching and rattling sound. She did not, however, possess anything left of her pride to give a single f*ck.

So she arrived. The dirtiest, muddiest steam lorry ever seen.

"Isabella?!" cried Alfie.

"Ye made it. Ye're late." Soon the machines were refueled and back at work, doing whatever it was they did. And poorly, at that. "Well, ye did...meh. Job well done, and that."

"I KNEW SHE'D DO IT. WHICH IS WHY I DIDN'T TELL YOU THAT I KNEW." bragged Jack.

"Feel proud?"

"I want a wash-down." said Isabella bluntly.

"...Eh. Feck. Nah. Got work to be doing."

"...Excuse me?"

"Ye heard."

"...Right. Well seeing as this is the worst possible day that I've ever had, let me just say what I've wanted to say for the past few decades. You are an awful human being."

"...Ex...Excuse me?"

"YOU HEARD. ...You run this company poorly. More than poorly in fact because at least with Sir Topham BLOODY Hatt, there is the option of THERAPY. All you've done since you took over is shove down that mantra of 'safety first' down our shitting throats! And then you don't even stay CONSTANT ON IT! YOU CALL OUT HALF OF US FOR ONE THING, AND THEN YOU REWARD THE OTHER HALF FOR DOING THE EXACT SAME FLIPPING THING! Oh, and don't even get me started on how SHODDILY this thing is run! Look at the equipment! IT LOOKS LIKE IT WAS MADE IN THE, to borrow a catchphrase here, FECKING FIFTIES! Do you have any idea how much quicker we'd be if we actually had access to ACTUAL EXPLOSIVES?! Or digital shit?! OR...ANYTHING!? But no. NO. OUR OPERATORS ARE FULL OF CRAP. MUCH LIKE YOU. And for the record, screaming at us and using FECK FECK FECK IS NOT. A. PRODUCTIVE. WAY. TO. DO. SHIT. Now I'm going back to the Yard with Kelly. We're going to wash down and then we're going to put a movie on! YOU CAN DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT! KISS MY EXHAUST PIPE, YOU PATHETIC DRIED UP TWAT!"

And with that, Isabella flounced out, followed moments later by a rather dazed Kelly.

Miss Jenny was, for the first time in her life, completely speechless.

"...So is this a bad f**king time to say that I'd like to break up with you?" said Carlin, awkwardly.

...

"You feel better about yourself now, Carlin?"

"Yes, Percy." said Carlin, holding his broken nose together with a grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat's. "Yes I do."

...

THE PRESENT.

"HOW DO WE GET OUT OF THIS!?"

"I know what to do!" said Oliver. "I shall defuse it with my arm!"

"...At this point, we have little other option." muttered Nelson, angrily. He hated relying on Oliver for anything. Even on good days. Which to be fair, there weren't much of recently.

"All right. Okay. Right. I can do this. Yes. This is it. The moment. I see. So that's how it works. Ah ha. Oh ho. I get it now. This is good. I know where I'm going with this. I am almost there. Uh huh. Indeed."

"...So are you actually going to touch it at any point?"

At which point, Clarkson cut out the middle man and-

Well...let's see if you are smart.

Jeremy Clarkson.

Plus one bomb.

Plus a hammer in his hand.

You can join the dots from there.

...

SOMEWHERE ON THE ISLAND OF SODOR.

"Mavis?"

Mavis glanced at Toby through sleep ridden eyes. "Hmm?"

"City's on fire."

"...Huh."

"Bill and Ben are definitely locked in the sheds?"

"Uh huh."

"Then it's not our problem."

,,,,,

Luckily for all involved, the bomb was of the cartoon variety, and it resulted in only two things. One, blowing Von Stig over the channel, and two, leaving everyone involved covered in soot and ash.

And as James May headed home to examine pictures of his new Dacia Sandero, the others sat in dejected silence and waited for a tow company to take them back home. Clarkson was just lighting a cigarette when someone honked their horn. It wasn't even at them, but Jack took offence."PISS OFF!" he shouted, and threw a beer bottle at them. The bottle connected with it's target.

Said target was the winner of the Best Ensemble Cast in a Children's show at the BAFTA's. And yellow. And a backhoe loader. And also follow by a cement mixer, a crane, a steamroller, a digger and their two leaders, both of whom were wearing hardhats.

And all of them were ready to defend Scoop to the death.

"Oh for god's sake." said a weary Kelly.

At which point, Clarkson dropped his cigar. Right on the gunpowder covered crew.

Well. There was only one thing to say to that, wasn't there?

"And on that bombshell!" slurred Clarkson, before he passed out and missed the fight completely.

* * *

Which is rather the thing you can say about this mini-series as a whole, isn't it? Just when it's getting good and we get to see what we wanted to see, it's all over. THAT'S ALL FOLKS.

NEXT TIME: SEASON 7.

Everything ends. That's a fact. I'm looking forward to doing this, but at the same time I'm not. I am going to miss having that theme song to listen to. To have Mike and Junior's themes in my head. To marvel at the technical wizardry of it all. Still, everything has it's time.

I hope you all have fun with it. I know I shall be.

* * *

Elsewhere, Norris Von Stig picked himself up, dusted himself down and went to make a phonecall to his boss.

Operation: Get Rid of the Pack was a success in a slightly different fashion than had been intended. But that was still a success.

Captain Zero would be VERY pleased indeed.


	40. S7 Episode 1: Emily's New Coaches

Season 7...Wow. To think we're finally here. AND OUR FIRST CHAPTER IS A BIG ONE.

A few notes before we begin. Thank you for your kind words regarding the Pack spinoff. I think it's fair to say that it's no one's favorite piece of Thomas related stuff, but I think that my take was fairly decent.

Now as to the season proper. We're entering the last good season of the show for quite some time, and even then, this one suffers a fair bit by comparison to the others. I'll give it this in that it has more of a spread of characters getting focus, instead of just Thomas, Percy and James getting most of the attention. Also, the music and sets are wonderful. But there are problems with it, not least the large amount of stock footage. We are also going to be getting into some pretty big story stuff here, more so than Season Six. If that was Season 1 when compared to the first volume, this one is a lot like Season 2. On an unrelated note, the order I am using is based on the original UK airing order, instead of the production order a la Season 5.

Some people may be curious as to the change in Captain Zero as a character. Originally it was planned to carry the Fat Director over into the main role as antagonist. However, because I felt that dragging out HIS character who be a bit too much, I went with Zero instead. His accent getting toned down was a way to make him a bit more of a serious character, and because I'm going to have enough Scots going forward. Luckily, you have John as your designated silly accent man. And rest assured, the problems with having John be Zero's son ARE GOING TO BE ADDRESSED. In this season specifically. The final note on this character is that the scene at the end, where he and John meet for the first time, is the continuation of the scene at the end of Percy and the Haunted Mine.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Right on.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : So you should. It was very bloody.

 **Bronze Shield:** It's time to get back to the stuff people actually care about!

 **Game-Watch:** It's taking me a bit of a while to get used to writing Emily, so I hope you enjoy what you see of her.

 **MattPrice01:** Von Stig is a Norris. I.E, kind of stupid. You will learn more about what Zero is up to later, but the Top Gear lot aren't coming back as of yet.

 **JD145:** Oh, you will learn more about them at some point. XD.

 **GreatWeestern1522:** Yes. While they don't know the specifics, they have been told the gist of it.

 **UGX7** : Indeed. The answers may be coming sooner than you'd think.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** INDEED, GOOD SIR. INDEED.

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** IT BEGINS.

 **Hughie99:** Interesting! I've certainly got a few ideas in mind for Murdoch and the like, so I hope you enjoy it!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

Right after the wrap party for the sixth season was finished, filming for Season 7 was ordered for the following week. Those who had left early to meet up with family members had to rush back quickly, cancel plans in the case of those who were closer to the Island, and just get stuff in order. Cameras were set up everywhere. Any footage shot for the Pack spin-off was quickly shoved into the vault, and all cameras were taken off the building sites planned and put elsewhere. A rather tired Angelis was dragged out of bed every morning, had a tape recorder shoved into his face and was told to "Get on with it."

The engines weren't in much better straits.

"AGAIN?!" whimpered Percy, who had been looking forward to a few months of relative calm. "But...But we need a break!"

"Well, we're not getting it." Gordon was blunt and to the point. He was nursing the remains of the hangover from the wrap party. "Well, Edward? Get to work then."

"...Excuse me?"

"You know. Doing all the menial stuff, while we stars-"

"Shut up, Gordon." Toby said, wearily. He saw where this was going, and he really didn't want to have to explain to the police why Gordon's remains would be splattered all over the turntable, should the blue engine keep mouthing off.

James sobbed. "I CAN'T WORK UNDER THESE CONDITIONS!"

All in all, it was a fractious time to be an engine.

...

And so the first day of filming dawned. The Red Balloon, it's cult still worshiping it, drifted along and acted as an overhead camera.

It was a beautiful morning on the Island of Sodor. Thomas the Tank Engine's blue paint sparkled in the sunshine as he puffed happily along the line with Annie and Clarabel.

He was, as per usual, feeling very bloody pleased with himself.

As he puffed through the tunnel, he glanced back to have witty banter with Old Broad 1 and Old Broad 2, as he had affectionately decided to think of them as from this point on. And as he looked, he realized-

"Wait, who the hell are YOU!?"

The red coaches, having no face and being not alive, did not answer him. Thomas came to a rough stop, thought for a moment, and then remembered that he had gone off in a massive huff after Annie had made some comment about him still being a man-engine-child even now. And then when he had backed down..."Oh, they are never going to let me live this down!"

...

"We're never going to let you live this down!" cackled Annie as Thomas quickly dumped them into the yard and hurried towards the station, red coaches still behind him.

"Shut up! Shut up! SSSH! Ahem! MORNING SIR! How can I-" And then he caught sight of the newest acquisition of the railway. She was beautiful, gleaming paint and a big shiny brass dome. She was, in short, a looker in engine terms.

 _All right, Thomas, if you're to make a good impression with this engine, you must be subtle, and clever, and very, very charming._

"HUBBA HUBBA! COR BLIMEY."

"Smooth." said the Fat Controller. "Thomas, meet Emily. Emily, meet the idiot who has his own TV show.

.Despite this...stellar start, he swallowed slightly. "Apologies. I was, er, thinking about something else. Hello!"

"Hello to ye too, ye randy git!" Emily said with completely sincere cheerfulness. Thomas wasn't sure whether or not to take that as a compliment or not, so he simply smiled his usual bland, inoffensive smile.

Get used to this, it happens a lot.

"Emily, get your coaches in order! You and your driver must learn the line! Which we are doing now, for some reason, instead of waiting for the lines to be more clear so there's less chance of you having an accident."

"Do I have to?!"

"Yes."

"...Ah. Yes sir." Emily headed off in the general direction of the yards. And by general direction, I mean she took a shortcut through the nearest wine merchants. Thomas watched her go with his eyes firmly fixed to Emily's tender.

He was impressed.

By what we'll leave up to your discretion.

Then he realized how creepy he was being, had his driver slap him across the face and tried to get on with his day.

Oh, if only he could have been that mature for the rest of the day.

...

"Have all the coaches MIGRATED!?"

"Apparently so." said Emily's driver. They had spent the past three minutes discovering that there was apparently some sort of large coach famine going on, to the point where the only two coaches available to them were Annie and Clarabel.

It's not a choice that anyone would really take, given the options, but it was a desperate time. And a very desperate measure was required.

"These aren't yer sort of coaches!" said the driver, who suffered from Sudrian Driver Fatigue already after merely spending two hours on the Island.

Annie and Clarabel felt insulted.

"OOOH WE'RE INSULTED!" screeched Annie.

"Are we?" said Clarabel, who was a bit slow on the uptake.

"Yes!"

"Oh...how dare he say we'll do?! We're better than that! ...Not by much, admittedly, but still!"

"AND WE'RE OFF!"

"Oh, yes, apparently we're not allowed to speed. That's...That's a thing we can't do."

"But how will tha rest of the Island learn how AWESOME I AM if I dinnae do anything!?" There was no answer forthcoming for Emily, so she merely puffed carefully along the track. The coaches were grumbling as they passed the watermill and over the three tiered bridge. Emily was beginning to wonder if there was something in the water here.

As she would later learn, it wasn't a case of what was in the water, but what _wasn't_.

Thomas was not having a good day. He had been spat at, kicked in the side, mocked and told that he was looking like an Edward who had been shrunk in the wash. And that was just by his agent. So as he returned with the red coaches, he was already in a bad mood. So seeing Emily could only make his experience better.

Or so he thought.

"Hullo, ye duck faced badger!"

"Hang about! THOSE ARE MY COACHES! YOU ROTTER! MINE MINE MINE! Gimme them back!" Thomas was aware that he was being a massive hypocrite considering that at least for three quarters of the year he pretended to hate them so that they'd just leave him alone for five seconds, but at the same time, being a dick was not something he was alien to.

Emily was very selective about her hearing, so she continued on her way. Insults were the 'you doing all right' where she was from. Pretty natural, all things considered. She happened to pass Edward as she went through Henry's tunnel.

But so busy was he thinking about all the things that were going wrong at the moment that he ignored her completely.

Percy had no such excuse when she arrived at Smelly-by-the-sea. He just plain ignored her out of solidarity for Thomas and his temper tantrum. When she whistled hello, no one really answered her properly, for no reason as far as she could tell. She was beginning to get rather peeved off.

Later, the Fat Man found Thomas and gave him an order. "I want you to go to the docks and pick up new coaches. ...Well, I say new coaches, they're just some of the 1984 ones with a slight bit of readjustment. But that's practically new anyway!"

"New coaches!? But siiiiiiiir, you need to tell Emily-"

"Really useful engines don't argue! ...Is what I keep trying to tell myself."

Thomas growled and set off. Already he could feel the accumulated wisdom of working with a bunch of idiots like the Pack begin to melt away back into his usual mixture of angry ego and hurt pride. He practically stomped out of the station in righteous anger.

...

"Oh wow, I'm actually allowed to speak!?" Oliver gasped. "It's a miracle! ...Why is everyone looking at me like this is my last season?" He coughed. "Ahem! You there! With the big wheels!"

"Eyes up front, mister!"

"What are you doing with Thomas's coaches?"

"Ohhhhhhhhhh so that's why he was being a wee big bonnie baby!" Emily gasped. "I'll apologize just ta get this farce over with!" She sighed. She wondered if Thomas had calmed down at all.

He had not.

"DON'T WANT NEW COACHES! DON'T WANT NEW COACHES! STUPID GIRL WITH HER STUPID COOTIES." Thomas was having a rough day.

The rest of the day followed with both Thomas and Emily missing each other by chance more than anything. Along the way, Emily began to wonder if the Island was usually this boring. Nothing of note had really happened thus far, which was strange considering the rumors that seemed to circle around the whole thing.

And as Emily drew past a signalbox, a workman with a red flag waved her down. "Oliver's not cleared the next signalbox, and they're starting to get worried! Little twit's probably started telling a cow about being saved from scrap and so forth! Can you just move yourself and see what's going on? And then kick him UPSIDE the arse for me."

"That mebbe physically impossible for me to do, but sure." As she moved ahead, into the yard, Emily could see that Oliver had broken down on the new crossing that had been built only a few days ago. He had the face of one who was steadily getting peeved of having to be helped out of situations like this. Then they heard Thomas's whistle. He could see Oliver, but despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop in time.

Apparently he'd been going at mach speed beforehand.

Oliver made a sound like a demented goose having sex with a camp hen, and shut his eyes, waiting for the end of it all. Emily quickly rushed forward and rammed into Oliver's backside...not like that! With a huge effort, she shoved him and herself off the track, just as Thomas raced across the second line, narrowly missing them both.

"i am not getting paid enough for this." sighed Thomas's driver.

...

The Fat Controller praised Emily. "Well done, you were a very brave engine. And so forth."

"The bravest! Though not as brave as the time that I escaped from-"

"No one CARES, Oliver!" The Fat Controller took a deep breath. "It gives me great pleasure, and a weight off my wallet, to present you with these two new coaches. Apparently we're giving everyone something unique instead of just letting them do any old job, I don't know any more, I feel old."

"Thank ye, sir?" said Emily, who privately thought the coaches were as ugly as sin. "Oh, and er, Thomas. Sorry I took Annie and Clarabel. Ye can keep them. They are VERY loud."

"They are. And I'm sorry I was such a jerk about it."

"And I'm sorry I wasn't in MORE OF THE EPISODE!"

"Hi James."

"Who was that?"

"Oh that's James. He's a dick...he'll probably try and flirt with you."

"Ah. So bog standard, then?"

"Yeah."

"Friends?"

"...Sure. I mean, if you want to be more-"

"Don't push yer luck with me, shortie!"

"SHORTIE! WELL I LIKE THAT!"

Emily loves her new coaches. And being part of the Fat Controller's railway.

At least we assume she does. Most of the negative stuff is getting edited out, apparently.

She's also met the rest of the main cast. But that, as they say, is a story for next time.

...

 **So my shedmates are a few kegs short of a full cellar, but they seem...interesting? Apparently there's some big dark secret going on under the surface of the Island. And it's apparently as long as five seasons and one extremely over-long and over stuffed movie.**

 **Grab some popcorn, lol, it's going to be a bumpy ride!**

 **Emily.**

...

ONE YEAR AGO.

The small harbor town of Cockleshell Bay had seen better days. In the eighties, it had been a hotspot for filming, in particular with the child stars Robin and Rosie Cockle staring in a show with the name of the town plastered on it. But now it had returned to a quiet, sleepy little area that mostly was the site of old tourists and the occasional bit of filming of stock footage.

In the bay, a small boat began to slowly chug on in towards the pier. Atop it stood a grizzled old man. Everyone backed away from him, rightly noting that he looked like he would stab you in the gut, flay you and make fine stockings from your remains if you looked at him wrong. His grey beard and hair, his stereotypical blue jacket and grey jumper, and even his permanently set scowl of a face made it clear that he was something of a veteran to the sea.

He shut the engine off, got onto the pier and began to make the trek up to his house. It was a shithole of a place, but it was all he could afford on his salary. Especially since the mother had moved in a few years back.

It was halfway up the hill that he realized that there was a rather beaten up looking car there. And it was three quarters of the way up that he noticed that the door seemed to be hanging off it's hinges. He swore, and began to stride even faster towards it, reaching for his gun. He braced himself, then ripped the door aside and stormed on in.

The front passage was relatively untouched, save for a few handprints. Mucky ones, too. Almost like-

"Well, well, well. You're here. Took your time."

"If it's money ye want, ye've picked the wrong, ye slack jawed jackanape! Me mother's days of spreading her legs are over! Ye've got one chance to get the hell out of here before I send ye to Davy Jones!"

"Oh...then you're going to hate what I've done with her."

He looked down. And saw his mother's head lying at an angle that it shouldn't be.

"How does that make you feel, John? It is John, right? ...Not the name I would have gone for, but it works." The voice was far more conversational than John would have thought it would be in this situation. "You're right. I can tell she hasn't, ah, as you put it, spread her legs in a long time. But hell's bells...I wonder how it makes you feel."

"Nothing."

"...What?"

"Nothing. She's gone. Whoop-de-doo. She was a bitch of a mother, a walking talking barnacle receptacle of a person. Ye better not have touched me loot, mate, or I swear to the sea, ye'll pay for it!" He stepped over his mother's body and stood in front of the robber. There was a long silence where they stared each other down. And then the stranger laughed.

"Well, an honest answer! And a fitting one! ...Good to see you've got a bit of Zero in you after all, lad."

"...Who are ye? Yer's no grave robber."

"No. I am your father."

John looked him up and down and laughed. "HA! As if! I knew Shipley weren't me pappy, but it sure as shit ain't ye! Look at ye! Ye're old, but I'm older! Who the hell would lead with that kind of a lie?"

"No? ...No, that's understandable of course. But there's one thing that might persuade you otherwise."

"Oh really?"

"Mmm. Something genetic. Something that you and I share in common." There was a pause. "ACK! To hell with it! Yon mother of yours was a wee whore and no mistake! Ye're better off without her cramping ye style, so help ye!"

John's eyebrow raised. "That's-"

"Trust me. Incredibly over blown accents? They're a family trait. It took me at least three years worth just to get my own down to something approaching manageable." The stranger smiled. "Name is Zero. Least-wise, it's the name I go by now. And you've got a name of your own too...Sailor John."

"How did you-?"

"When you were in short trousers, I was out there defrauding idiots and reaping rewards that weren't mine like it was an art form...do you have a boat? I've always felt better when talking on a boat. As for your mother and this house...well...we can sort it out."

And so it was that the two men sat on a boat together, a little bit out of the bay, and looked at each other.

"So...where do we go from here, bucko?"

"Simple. I'm going to tell you my life story. It started here, you know...and by the end of it, you're going to have to make a choice."

"Ooooh. Fun." John's words were layered with sarcasm. "What kind of story is it?"

"A very, very strange one. It's got blood, sex, talking trains, cartoon characters being real and a whole lot of tonal inconsistencies. In short, it should be your cup of tea. Anyway. Once upon a time..."

...

 _COCKLESHELL BAY, 1918._

 _"...Strewth, you're old."_

 _"Piss off!" The man in the wheelchair took a long puff of his cigar and glared at the large boat. The hospital wasn't too far from the port, and as such, they had allowed him to talk to this supposed figure from 'the government'. Not that he was enjoying it. "Had to bloody do it, didn't I?"_

 _"Oh, calm down me old mucker. That's what the Brits say, right?"_

 _"I'm BLOODY SCOTTISH!"_

 _"Heh. Same thing nowadays. ...Family dead, right?"_

 _"Yeah. Ruddy nuisances they were. I'm glad to see the back of them!"_

 _"Ooooh, I like you already. Just a little note though. That won't look good at the funeral. Now, let's see. Ah yes. John...hang on, last name's a bit smudged. Ah well, it doesn't matter. Naval record isn't great, but it's not awful either. Nicknamed Zero because of his lack of action. Injured during attack during the Battle of Jutland and you've been here recuperating since."_

 _"Yes, ta for the exposition. What do ye want?!"_

 _"...There's a space come up in a new project we're working on. Woodworm Wilson's raised the idea of some...League of Nations to make sure shit like this ain't gonna happen again. But while that's being argued over, the Yanks and the Geordies have come with a grand idea to promote piece. Area not too far from the coast's in need of renovating. The Bigg City, it's called. The Brits will assist with the construction of several vessels of all shapes and sizes, off American plans and designs, and then send them off to assist the new population."_

 _"Brilliant. Rock on. Where the hell do I fit in?"_

 _"You're a businessman. At least, before all this. You were quite good at it. Whipped your daddy at it, at least. There are businesses there that could use the extra push. The tugboat, for it's size, is the most lucrative craft afloat. And you'll have your selection of the ships...after someone else has already taken the most trustworthy ones, mind, but I don't see that as being a problem for you."_

 _"...Tempting. What do ye get out of it?"_

 _Johnny Cuba smiled. It was incredibly sinister to see. "Oh, you'll know when the time is right."_

 _..._

 _BIGG CITY PORT._

 _The two men sat and looked at each other for a moment. Neither one was sure just what it was that the other was thinking, though they had some idea. The man currently wearing the dark, muted colors of his organization scoffed loudly at nothing in particular, while the far brighter looking man glanced out at the sea, lapping against the supports._

 _At last, Captain Starr spoke._

 _"How long have you been back?"_

 _"About a week. Mebbe more. Hard ta tell." Zero looked at Starr cautiously. "Ye got off early?"_

 _"Honorable Discharge." Starr tapped his cane. "Bloody sniper. Didn't realize how quickly I'd miss it though. The sea's calling to me." He glanced back. "I'm here to call a truce. Our war was started in times when business was our main concern. But after the war we've both been through-"_

 _"Sounds ta me like yer throwing in the towel, Starr!" snarled Zero. "Sides, the rest of me family is dead now. I'm not. That say anything ta ye?"_

 _"That you are being ridiculously unpragmatic. That you are too foolish to move with the times. That you're doing this-"_

 _"Because I can win. And I will."_

 _"With that tramp steamer's help, I suppose?" Zero didn't flinch or widen his eyes, but there was a sudden feeling of coldness to the air that had not been there before. Starr pressed the advantage. "You would be surprised how fast talk spreads here. I got here because I earned it. The war effort would have required a lot more of said effort if I hadn't have stepped in. And you got here because...well, some Australian sod managed to pay your fees."_

 _"...Ye be careful with yer words, Allan. Don't want ye to...well. Accidents can happen."_

 _"...Goodbye. I doubt we'll be seeing each other like this again."_

 _Starr limped out. After a moment, Zero stood up and quietly adjusted the large loudspeaker that carried his voice to the fleet waiting outside. "Well well well, ye lucky shites! It's time for us ta get to work! And fast! ...Things are about to heat up, and I don't want any of ye backing out now! Captain...Captain Zero'll brook nay mutiny! ...I'm getting to the top. One way or another."_

 _TO BE CONTINUED._


	41. Episode 2: Percy Gets It Right

So I didn't explain myself very well last time. Let me remedy that now.

The name of the game this time is that we're gong to be focusing a lot on what has lead Captain Zero to this point in time. Why it is he's doing this. Now obviously, I'm going to be holding a few cards close to my chest. The Malignance isn't going to explained in this season, I can say that right now with complete certainty. But there are a few things that need to be explained. For one, what happened during the gap between Magic Railroad and Season 6. And what the hell Zero's deal is. And why Sailor John, his son, is still so much more older than he is. These are questions that can, hopefully, be explained in this season. It's going to be like Season 5 in that we're going to be covering a lot of ground in that respect.

This includes TUGS. With my take on it stalling due to the fact that it's far more adult and almost abridging itself at several points, this is going to be a cliff notes version told through Zero's eyes, in case I never get around to finishing it. This chapter in particular is about that. Matter of fact, up until episode 13, we'll be dealing with stuff that happened in the past of the series in general. But from there? We're going to get the answers to some questions. Some of which you hadn't even known you had.

Oh, also. Cockleshell Bay was the name of an old TV show. You might know it from the fake credits of Shed 17, where it was indicated that something rather nasty had happened. Shipham/Shipley was a character from that, and I imagined in this story that he eventually married John's mother. So...that's that. And here, we have all thirteen episodes of Tugs referenced in Zero's section. Just the daily life of a really pissed off Scottish businessman.

 **AaronCottrell97:** :D

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Yay indeed!

 **Bronze Shield:** I hope it is!

 **Game-Watch:** IT'S GONNA GET WILD.

 **MattPrice01:** Basically, I'm filling in some plot holes. And I hope you'll gather more about it as we go along. Think of it like Season 5, where hopefully the confusing parts will add up to a more comprehensive whole.

 **JD145:** Quite so.

 **bigihsuan:** SO. IT. DOES.

 **UGX7** : You get a little bit of information here that covers it. You'll be getting more of Cuba in the coming chapters. The Edward drama stresses me out, and I'm trying to stay right out of it.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** True that.

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** You'll see!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

It was harvest time on the Island of Sodor.

When isn't it, I ask you? It's either pissing winter time or it's the start of summer. Go figure, I guess. The air was full of the smell of fresh fruit, vegetables, and hatred. One of these things is not like the other!

But on the day we speak of, mist and rain attacked the Island with full force. All sensible engines had quickly gotten their jobs over and done with so they could retreat to the safety of their sheds. Which were, in fact, only a marginal improvement over being out there in the rain.

Percy, however, had decided for some reason to take Toby's old line in his delivery of a load of fresh tomatoes. As opposed to Rotten Tomatoes, which was a rather diversive website. Suddenly, he felt a big bump.

No, someone hadn't been dropping bowling balls on his head again, it was the track itself! It appeared to sag slightly in the middle. Percy of course, reacted as you or I would.

"GREAT BLOODY BALLS OF BUSTING BUFFERS! WHAT'S GOING ON!? THE SKY HAS FALLEN, WE ARE ALL DOOMED, OH MYYYYYY."

No one was quite sure whether or not this was just Percy being an idiot or Percy being a seer. Or...a combination of both. The guard shoved a pair of sticks with red knickers attached to them into the ground, while Carlin and the fireman inspected the tracks.

"F**k me! The earth's f**king crumbling! Like the fireman's marriage!"

"Rude." said the fireman.

"WE MUST TELL THE FAT CONTROLLER!"

"Only if you turn your voice down." winced Carlin.

And off they set. Somehow they managed to break the space time continum and arrive back at the station going backwards. Despite not going back across the broken track, but instead going forward. True, they could have just gone back along the line, but that raises the question of why he didn't turn around in the first place and oh dear there goes the ground.

...

ONE NAP LATER.

...

ANYWAY.

As Percy arrived back, he saw someone he knew would give him good, sound advice on what to do.

Then Edward moved to the side a bit, and Percy had to deal with Gordon instead. "I BRING GRAAAAAAAAVE TIDINGS!" wailed the little green caterpillar. "THE TRACKS ON TOBY'S LINE...ARE WOBBLY! WOBBLY LIKE JELLY! Jelly is wobbly, right? ...GRAAAAAVE TIDINGS."

"Huh! Old and wobbly!? JUST LIKE TOBY!" He guffawed loudly, for he was the nine hundredth and ninety ninth person to say that this year alone, and he wanted his complimentary prize. "That's not news! That's facts! NOW! TO THE EXPRESS!" And off he went, nearly going through a wall in the process.

"Gordon never listens to me." whimpered Percy. "And on other news, the sun is bright!"

He rushed into the station. "SIR SIR SIR SIR SIR SIR SIR SIR SIR SIR SIR SIR-"

"Just let him tire himself out." said a weary Sir Topham Hatt. That didn't work, however. "SHADDUP! Thomas, get on your metaphorical bike and head off to get Champion. The Prize Bull. As opposed to the prized bullshitter, who stills happens to be James. Ruddy 'Red Engine Day Off Day' my arse!" He returned back to reality. "Oh yeah, he's on the farm at Toby's line."

"...Can't we just get him from anywhere else?"

"NOPE!"

"But SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIR. The tracks are wobbly and are about to fall apart at any given time!"

"So like Toby then?" The one thousandth man did not get a prize. Unfortunately. "And like Toby, they're steady enough! Off you pop, Thomas! And for the love of God, try and get along with Champion this time. He still hates you for trying to get him back to the farmer that one time!"

"BYE PERCY!" said Thomas, smugly steaming off.

"Will no one listen to me?!" wailed Percy.

"NO!" said the world.

...

Soon, Thomas was at the farm. He was quick to urge the farmer and company to load Champion on as fast as possible. Somewhere, a lone matador (Senore Norris) played his instruments in typical flamboyant style. And then they were off.

"So...no hard feelings Champion?"

"RAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWW!" screamed Champion, who had recently had his heart broken by another bull, and was in poor temper.

"Fair enough." muttered Thomas. The rails were even slippier now that the rain had once again bucketed down. Edward had managed to battle through no problem. Less so with Percy, but still. Thomas, meanwhile, was beginning to wonder if there was any point in even getting the cattle truck to the halfway point.

At which pointed, chocolate began to roll down the mountainside. What's that? It's supposed to be dirt? Well look at it. It looks suspiciously like someone just sliced off a chocolate cake top, sprinkled it around and then called action. I know the weather is bad on Sodor, but even so! The driver applied the brakes, but- and say it with me everyone - it was TOO LATE!

Thomas plunged into the chocolate- I mean...dirt. Into the dirt. Surprisingly he did not pop off the rails onto his side. Nor did the truck. Or even the brake-van. Impressively, it just so happened that he ended up getting stuck under the dirt.

A bit of a let down if you ask me. I was waiting for the little blue asshole to die a painful death. At the very least, someone at least remembered to play the SLIDE WHISTLE OF DOOM, copyright Gullane.

"CINDERS AND ASHES!" cried Thomas, except slightly stronger and also with a mouth full of dirt. "WE'RE STUCK! ...And this is delicious!"

And they were. And it was.

...

Duck whistled goodnight as he headed back off towards the goods yards. He and Edward were planning to hash a few details out with Stepney and Boxhill about things. So he therefore missed the joy of everyone staring glumly at each other while wracking their brains for any new conversation. Percy realized that Thomas wasn't back yet.

"THOMAS IS NOT BACK YET!" said he (See) and began to worry. Galloping Sausage and Rusty Red Scrap Iron ignored this.

"Worry wheels."

After a period of silence, James realized he was supposed to go next. "FUSSY FUNNEL!" He bellowed, having had a loudspeaker take up near permanent residence in his throat at present.

"Turn it down!" growled Donald, who wanted to just go home and rest.

"Look, can we just go and find him!?" asked Percy.

"Sure thing!" said Carlin, who had nothing better to do that night.

"Wait...why didn't you speak up and talk to Fatty?!"

"Oh, that? Me and the lads were down the pub. BUT LET'S NOT ARGUE OVER SPLIT MILK!" And so saying, Carlin started Percy off in search of the feckless tank engine. And the others returned to that awkward and painful silence, before Emily came in and began to write up her blog post for the day.

Percy was nervous, but he pressed on even as the tracks creaked even more so under his weight, and the lamp shone brightly. And then, at last-

"PERCY!"

"Evening, Thomas. How are you doing?"

"Oh, you know...beginning to get real tired of eating dirt, though."

"I'll have you out in a few minutes!"

And it took a lot of strength, puffing and pulling before Thomas was freed from his dirty and delicious prison. Yeah, I'd build it up more, but I think we all know that we're basically just trying to wrap the story up at this point.

"Ohhhhh thank you!"

"Glad to be of help...also, do you think the Fat One will actually listen to me this time?"

"I'd...not get your hopes up."

It was dawn before the track was cleared, and then the two engines hurried back. Percy decided to be a pain in the ass and bellowed to anyone and everyone who would have listened that "THOMAS IS HERE! AND IS ALIVE! THANKS TO ME!"

"Percy saved the day! ...I know! What are the odds?!"

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOO." said Champion, who had little to contribute to the story. In fact one could take him out of it entirely and lose exactly NOTHING.

"Sorry, Percy, we owe you an apology. We should do a better job of listening to you in futu-Oh look, a cake shop!"

Percy was pleased, nonetheless, that he had been recognized.

At which point Toby arrived "Who is the smartarse making cracks about me being wobbly?!" he raged.

...

"This is a ruddy odd story." said John, as he puffed away on an old cigarette pipe.

"Tell me about it. Talking boats. It's all screwed up. The bloody union was terrible, you know. It used to be that a boat was just a boat. No talk-back, no stress, no different opinions. It took you where you want to go and that was that. ...The five I got were relatively cheap ones. Zorran was fairly decent, could do a good bit of work. It was just a pity that he made Dick Dastardly look like a Shakespearian character. Zebedee-"

"The bouncy fucker?"

"Nah, this one was anything but. Solid. Dependable. All ruined by that stubborn streak of conscience. Zak was stupid. Dumb as a sack of rocks...but crafty, at the same time. A very bad combination. And the two switchers, Zip and Zug, who were...well, assholes. And stupid. See a theme here? ...Me and Cuba had argued over profits. He wanted them all. So did I. I pushed him back, told him on no account to come to the harbor, or else I'd have him dealt with. And so I set about dealing with the next few years worth of contracts. Most of which went belly up on my account."

...

 _"Yes Duchess. Yes. Yes. Yes I am aware that my boys were pillocks. No, I will not be allowing them any more of the, as ye call them, sweeties. ...LOOK! KNIGHTING CAPTAIN STARR SEEMS A BIT FAR IN THE OTHER DIRECTION! I mean, the journey wasn't that bad, wasnae it? ...What do you mean, Zug said ye had a nice rudder?! ...Look, I've nae idea whether or not yer hull is real or not but...hello? ...HELLO!?"_

 _Zero slammed down his phone. "Bloody hell. Things can only get better."_

 _..._

 _"So, I'm going to ask ye this again. Ye swear to god ye had no idea that it wasnae Ten Cents who took yon barge?"_

 _"Indeed, sir!"_

 _"But Zug-"_

 _"Shut it, Fatface!"_

 _"...Yer a couple of pains in my arse, ye know?" Zero groaned and lay back. "...I don't need extra trouble. Especially if it's not on my orders! ...Ye two better bugger off now, before I really get pissed."_

 _And off they scarpered._

 _Zero lay back and sighed. It was becoming nigh on impossible to deal with this situation. He had heard...something. Rumors. Of two green eyed monsters that roamed around looking for things to snatch up. And things was a broad term, both to them and to him. It could mean anything. Barges, buoys, tugs...people. It was all a commodity to them._

 _If it had been anywhere else but here, Zero would have practically been cheering them on. But it was here, so he wasn't._

 _He dialed Starr's number...and waited._

 _"Starr. ...We need ta talk things through."_

 _..._

 _"I am going to slowly murder all of ye the next time ye try a shitty stunt like that." Zero''s megaphone practically trembled with unsurpressed rage. "And of people, ye had to deal with that WEST COUNTRY BUMPKIN?!"_

 _"Er, sir-"_

 _"BUT. NOTHING. ZORRAN. ...Billy Shoepack's already sent me the bill, and it is MASSIVE, let me tell ye!"_

 _..._

 _Captain Zero watched as the mass of logs rolled right on down the river. He looked to the Z-Stacks and shrugged. "This is one contract I in nae way want to bother with, lads. ...Let's just call it a night."_

 _..._

 _"What do ye mean 'he has a jinx'?! That's...That's not a real thing!"_

 _"Sorry Cap'n, it's what the boys are saying!"_

 _"...Ugh. Fine. Zak, tell this Boomer bastard ta piss off and never darken these moorings again!"_

 _"Right-ho!"_

 _"...Oh, and Zak?"_

 _"Yes, Cap'n?"_

 _"...Ye've better not be getting ideas in that stack of yers."_

 _"Ideas, me?" Zak was the picture of innocent stupidity. "Don't know what them words even mean."_

 _"Good. Just keep it that way."_

 _..._

 _"...Zorran's in quarantine."_

 _"Aye. He's been a right tosser, let me tell you."_

 _"I...appreciate that, Mr Coast Guard. ...Do me a solid, will ye? Give me a bell when he can get out. And then perhaps prepare a shallow grave somewhere."_

 _"...Hmph. As you wish."_

 _Zero closed the window. "Prick." he whispered to no on in particular._

 _..._

 _"SIR! SIR! SIR! WE CAN'T GO BACK OUT THERE, SIR! ...Well, I mean, we could always send Zak, but apart from that, NO ONE ELSE SHOULD LEAVE THE PORT. AT ALL. I mean it!"_

 _"Zorran." groaned Zero. "It is four in the bloody morning! Ye're going to drive me into an early grave, ye wee shite!"_

 _"But...But the ghosts-"_

 _"That White Fleet have a LOT to answer for!"_

 _"The what?"_

 _"GO TO SLEEP."_

 _..._

 _"..Ye dealt with him?"_

 _"Er, yes, boss." Zebedee swallowed nervously. "The Coast Guard and the Fire Chief dragged Johnny off to dry dock for a spell. They don't know what they're going to charge him with properly, but they've come up with a few little ideas. It's...all a bit shit, to be honest." He paused, and realized that Zero was being remarkably quiet, all things considered. "Are you all right, sir?"_

 _"...Zorran's nae been suspected in the Alice incident?"_

 _"No. ...No. Think he's regretting even trying it now."_

 _"...Good. ...Good. Ye did well, Zeb. Take the night off. And the next night. I've gotta make a few wee calls."_

 _"Right, sir! Thank you!"_

 _"And Zeb?"_

 _"Yes sir?"_

 _"Not a word to this. To anyone."_

 _"...Clear as crystal, sir."_

 _Zero smiled. Cuba was going to try and cheat him out of his money, was he? Well. Karma was clearly on his side._

 _..._

 _"Ye...broke a bridge."_

 _"Sir, if I can just-"_

 _"Ye broke...a bridge."_

 _"...SI-"_

 _"Sssshhhhhh. ...Ye hear that?"_

 _"...No sir?"_

 _"That's the sound of yer paychecks getting docked for the next year. Yer bloody lucky that they've swallowed the excuse that it was an accident."_

 _"But it was-"_

 _"SSSSHHHHH...go now. Before I kill ye."_

 _Zak sidled away, but Zero could sense the little cocky look on his face. He just could._

 _..._

 _"WHAT DO YE MEAN THA DOCK'S BURNT DOWN?!" Zero was apoplectic with rage. "It was THERE a moment ago!? WHAT KIND OF PRAT DOES THAT SHITE?!" He squeezed the bridge of his nose and let out a long, long, looooooooong huff. "Oh. Bluenose? BLUEBALLS MORE LIKE! WHICH IS WHAT HE'LL BE HAVING WHEN I GET HIS SUPERIORS ON THE PHONE!"_

 _Unfortunately, getting his superiors on the phone was a real pain in the arse. Not only had Bluenose already been dismissed (To be replaced by his cousin, Bluenose Esquire, who many argued was just Bluenose stripped of his remaining sanity), but as it had turned out, the office he had needed to be called had been staffed by, you guessed it, Johnny Cuba._

 _Who didn't work there any more._

 _Because of Zero._

 _Karma, as it turns out, was a very fickle woman._

 _..._

 _"YE STUPID-"_

 _The Z-Stacks looked at each other in horror as Zero went on and on and on, ranting and raving about everything and nothing, his words becoming stranger and more alien to them by the second. It appeared that Zip and Zug's refusal to give the Star Tugs a hand had cost them yet another contract._

 _Zero had had it up to here._

 _..._

 _"You know, I'm really beginning to regret hiring ye lot. ...That shithole of a regatta's got my cash flow by the balls, so it has!" Zero glared out at the four quivering tugs...and Zak, who was too stupid to quiver. "Ye best get a move on lads. Before I really lose me cool."_

 _His cool, however, had already been lost. It was just because he had a sore throat that he didn't go bananas on the lot of them._

 _Zak, however..._

 _Zak was going to be a real problem._

 _..._

 _Zero sat and stared at the phone. Again, a request for an update from the Fire Chief had told him that apparently Zip and Zug were trapped in dry dock. For what looked to be, at the very least, the next year or so. What was worse was that Zorran appeared to be losing any real hatred for the Star Tugs. Professionally, sure, he was still going to go all out in trying to get the results he wanted. But personally? ...No. Those days were long gone._

 _Added to that, it was balls to the wall freezing._

 _..._

 _Yes, life was hard for the 'good' Captain. But he was pretty sure that things would pan out. After all, they often did._

 _And then the day came when he decided to think about something he had never thought of before in his entire life._

 _The future._

 _And it came in the shapes of Zak, Zebedee, Johnny Cuba...and a message from the future._


	42. Episode 3: Bill, Ben and Fergus

Glad you all enjoyed last time! Now, thing is, I'm already doing university, so I'm going to be a little bit slow on updates. Not like, month long hiatuses, but still, brace yourself in case I take a little slower to get on top of things than I usually would.

Now, before we move onto the story, I just want to address a few things regarding the future of the actual show. Now, I'm really, really, REALLY hoping that the new direction the show is going to take will prove to be better than what we have been lead to believe. But to do that, there's going to have to be a lot of thought put into it. And thus far, I'm not seeing it. I don't think Thomas and Friends is dead, considering that I'm about to enter a long period of mediocre to horrible stories myself in this very fanfiction. But my hope is that one day, it will return to it's glory.

With that in mind, let me just make an announcement now. While we still have a long ways to go before we even get to the planning stage yet, **SEASON 21 AND JOURNEY BEYOND SODOR WILL BE THE CUT-OFF POINT FOR THIS FANFICTION**. I will consider writing my own special to wrap things up then, unless the situation has improved in the probable years that it will take to get me to that point.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yeah, pretty much.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Damn right.

 **Bronze Shield:** Thanks for the compliment! It's really nice.

 **Game-Watch:** Sounds about right.

 **MattPrice01:** :D Hope you enjoy what's coming, then.

 **JD145:** You'll see.

 **UGX7** : Ah, the interesting thing about Zak is that, while doing research, I either stumbled across or was told by a mate of mine that Zak's bio in one of the more niche production related bits stated that he had designs on Zorran's position. Hence my extending that to Zak wanting to take control of the Z-Stacks from the very source. Added to that is that by this time in the series, Zorran has at least become something of a more three dimensional character when compared to the other Z-Stacks, save Zebedee.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** I AM ASHAMED. XD.

 **Kamen Rider Necrom:** It's pretty good, IMO.

 **The Nerdinator:** WOBBBBBBBBBBLEH.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

"Sir, there's an angry mob forming outside your house!"

"So an average morning here?" growled the Fat Controller at his butler.

"I mean, a larger one than usual. They appear to be chanting that they want their money back...for some reason."

"TELL THEM I'M NOT HERE!" Hatt hid under his bed, while the mob began to throw rotten fruit at his window. He was stressed out. In recent days things had gotten worse and worst for the Island with regards to riots. People were getting really tired of living on a walking death trap.

...

So to help matter, he had come up with a brand new idea. He had bought a new railway traction engine from the Sudrian Police to A: Appease the PC and give them a token character, and B: Try and keep things in order. Unfortunately, this had backfired. Fergus was, to put it mildly, a pain in the arse.

Not least because he appeared to have forgotten he wasn't a policeman anymore.

On the day we speak of, he was heading off to the quarry to do a job that the Fat Controller had asked him to do. And seeing as the China Clay Works had been shut down for a period of time due to Fergus believing there to be drugs there (WHICH THERE WEREN'T) that meant Bill and Ben had been shoved into said quarry until the Vice Squad stopped sniffing around.

"Hello!" said Thomas, who was concerned that Fergus might report him to the Island Police for...well, starting from 'not smiling enough' and working up from there. "Where are you off too?! ...I ask for a friend who wants to avoid you. Not me though. I'm not the friend. Don't get any ideas like that. In fact, what ideas? Who are you even talking to?"

"The quarry! I have heard there are RIFF RAFF there!" cried Fergus, waving his truncheon (Stuck to his flywheel) around like a maniac.

"Watch out for the twins. And by watch out, I mean just stand back and let them do what they want." Thomas flinched as the truncheon nearly smacked him in the eye. "And for gods sake, STOP!"

"NEVER! I won't let a pair of young rascals get to me!"

"I'll put those words on your grave." growled Thomas. "You don't know the twins like I do!"

...

"NOW QUARRY WORKERS 24601! TIME IS UP, AND OUR WORK'S BEGUN! YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!"

Mavis groaned. Fergus was very much a fan of Les Miserables. And of a certain police officer at that. "Another whack job. Why do I always get the crazies? Er, hi Fergus, the trucks are in a bit of a mess!"

"Not to worry! We shall sort them out! A little bit of police brutality NEVER harmed anyone!"

"I...I think that's literally the point of police brutality."

"Do you want a whack with my stick, Percy!?"

"No. No I'll just shut up."

Bill and Ben were, as per usual, delighted. "We'll have some real fun! Get the old boiler in a spin! Why haven't we killed someone yet?!"

As they got to work, engines passed through the quarry and were chased away with increasing regularity. One of them was a new tank engine who was considering putting in an application to join the Island permanently. Unfortunately his episode hasn't aired yet so SSSSH. No one point him out. And on a more serious note, Fergus was fine dealing with Mavis. Not so much the twins, who were being prats. Again.

Bill banged his trucks hard.

"PUBLIC INDECENCEY!" screamed Fergus, getting the really wrongest of all wrong ideas. He then noticed that some of the rocks had fallen off the truck and onto the track. "DO! IT! RIGHT!"

"Up your spout!" snarled Bill, who didn't need no orders from no traction engine. "Don't interfere!"

And then it was Ben's turn to get told off/shouted at, as he shunted a line of trucks to block the line.

"SCANDAL!" wailed Fergus, his club revving up for a-bashing. "DO IT RIGHT! ...And get this out of my way! I cannot PURGE THE WORLD OF SIN with these stuck in my way!"

"You're right! You can't!"

And then Ben left him to simmer in the siding.

...

The next day, the men were blasting rock. They were massive fans of Metallica, you see. ...Oh, and also they were blowing up part of the quarry cliff, I guess. But mostly the former.

"WAIT FOR THE ALL CLEAR SIGNAL!" shouted Fergus over the sounds of Nickelback slumming their way through another song that sounded like...pain. "DO IT RIGHT!"

"I'll do you in a minute!" said Ben. "...Not like that. Not that there's anything wrong with that."

"There he goes again! Do it right from morning til night, and never stop once, or I'll give you a bite!"

"BACK OFF OUT OF OUR QUARRY, MISTER!" shouted Bill. "You're not our father!"

"COME BACK HERE!" Fergus bellowed impotently. "I'll give you such a thump!" But the twins didn't listen, as the quarry master had sent them to get a rock crusher from Brendam Docks. And as they left, they grew crosser and crosser over Fergus.

Who was at this point enjoying his peace and quiet by trying to seduce Mavis. It was going badly. As she would later tell Emily in their daily 'OH THANK HEAVENS THERE'S ANOTHER GIRL ON THIS ISLAND, AM I RIGHT?' meetings, "I'm not going to find a small engine with a supply of cheap innuendos about sucking his stick that attractive."

And the twins were still complaining as they arrived at the docks.

"Just an old fusspot!"

"Like Edward, except without any of the fun bits! DO IT RIGHT! DO IT RIGHT! God, I wish he'd get over himself!"

"Well the next thing he tells us to do right-"

"WE'LL DO IT WRONG!" They laughed.

As they steamed back, they were too busy bragging to notice that A: This was an awful plan in every sense of the words, and B: The rock crusher was heavily shaking the rails up and down.

...

"The blasting has made that rock face unsafe!"

"I don't know." said Mavis dubiously. "I think that's a very nice carving of Hugh Grant right there."

"...Surrounded by idiots." murmured Fergus. Mavis had been thinking exactly the same thing, coincidentally. He spoke up a bit louder. "Don't go near it! DO! IT! RIGHT!"

"How about we don't." said Bill, using iron clad logic. And off the set into the quarry cavern, roughly rocking the rock crusher with reckless righteousness. Don't like alliteration? Too bad! This is but a portent of what is to come!

"Oh..." said Ben, as they got round the first bend. "That is not the best idea we've ever had, is it?"

"No." said Bill, as the rock began to crumble. "No it is not."

"...Oh for god's sake, LOOK OUT!" Fergus rushed forward and shoved both twins and the rock crusher away. ("Ruddy hell is he strong?!" cried Bill as they ended up shooting through the other side). He didn't want to have to explain to the Fat Controller why the workforce of the quarry was now composed of himself, Mavis and two pancakes that looked like they might have been engines.

His driver then left him to his fate. As the rocks came falling down, the traction engine thought of some great last words.

"MOTHER!"

And then didn't say them. He was soon covered with rocks right up to his funnel.

After a very urgent discussion, and an even more urgent tea break, the workmen began to dig the traction engine out. Very, very slowly. They didn't want to get an injured stomach, after all. And Fergus was a bit of a jerk anyroad. It took a long, long time.

And no one worked harder to help than Bill and Ben. Primarily because Mavis had left to get something to snack on, and so upon arriving back had put the fear of God into the two little twits on wheels.

Soon, Fergus was free. The twins were forced to feel ashamed, and also a little sheepish considering that they had nearly gotten Fergus killed. So that was a thing that had happened.

"We shouldn't have been such...idiots. And naughty. And that we nearly got you murdered.

"We won't potentially kill someone like that again. We promise." said Ben, who was already sensing that they were living on borrowed time from the glares that most of the workmen were giving them after having to clean up yet ANOTHER of their messes.

"Good! Then let's do it all right together!"

And everyone laughed.

Until it got awkward.

And then they all went to the pub.

...

Fergus, however, stayed behind for a moment. He waited until all the engines had gone, before limping off in another direction entirely. His flywheel was beginning to give him grief, and as he arrived, he let out a low groan. "This had better be bloody worth it!"

"Funny. I was about to say the same thing to you." Duck emerged from the shadows and glanced at him sympathetically. "The twins?"

"The little hellions! ...What do you want from me?"

"Well, thank you first of all for putting the cat amongst the pigeons with my friends. That's made spying on the new owners a lot harder, ta for all you've done and all that."

"If you wanted an engine person, you should have asked for someone else."

"...You have the information?"

"I do." Fergus's driver retrieved it from the back of his cab. "But it's all legitimate, Duck. Everything that the man in charge is doing is legitimate. The Fat Director was always very careful not to mention his partners, so with him having gone missing, we've nothing to go on."

Duck growled. "Can't believe that the Iron Circle are just...sitting on their arses!"

"Now now, they have to cover those arses...what's your plan?"

"Simple, Fergus." Duck's eyes flashed. "I'm going to win."

...

"The end, as it often does, seemed to come all at a sudden. And yet, if you looked back, it was clear that things were starting to happen. Things that I could no longer control. And the one thing people like you and me need, John, is control. And it began one day, as the fog rolled in.

...

 _"Sir, I'd like to resign."_

 _Zero spat out his drink. "Ye what!?"_

 _Zebedee looked at him. "I'm resigning, Cap'n. I want out. I'm done. ...Don't pay me, I'll just go. No one loses anything. I'm getting out."_

 _"Ye will not, ye...what the hell's brought this on?!"_

 _"...Lot of things. Just want to leave, tis all."_

 _"Oh yeah!? And where the hell do ye think a little runt like ye is going to go?! The Stars? Let me tell ye, they're hard enough on themselves, ye think they'll want some ruddy turncoat?! Not after the shit we've pulled!"_

 _"...Not Star Tugs, no. Think I might head up river and then...well...we'll see what happens, won't we?"_

 _"Is it about the money, ye fucking magpie?"_

 _"No. I've got more than ever. Now that Zip and Zug aren't coming back."_

 _"I'm telling ye-"_

 _"They're not getting out of dry dock any time soon, sir. Not even you can bribe your way out of this one."_

 _"...Ye coward. Ye getting out before the going goes ta shite?!"_

 _"No. Before I go to pot."_

 _"Ye're scared!"_

 _"Oh yes, sir. I am. Johnny Cuba and you have history, that's enough to put the fear of God into me. It's been ten years and I'm still terrified that he's going to come back and take the entire harbor down with him. I want out of here before you screw us all over. With respect, sir."_

 _Zero's lip curled. "Ye...Ye go. Now. Don't ye fucking dare come looking for work here, or I'll rip yer arse to shreds!"_

 _"Goodbye Cap'n. It's...been an experience."_

 _"Piss off!"_

 _And Zebedee did._

 _The nineteen thirties._

 _God, it was already the nineteen thirties._

 _1935, to be exact. And already the winds were beginning to blow in a direction that Captain Zero was none too happy with. For while he was very happy to be profiting, and war tended to be profitable, the way they made this war sound didn't exactly sound like his cup of tea. Not that he was even going to have much luck profiteering, given how badly the Z-Stacks had been cut down in recent years. Zip and Zug were still trapped in Dry Dock after the long rap sheet that was presented to the judge had failed to get mysteriously lost along the way. And while Zero was still trying his hardest, the two looked to be stuck in there for at least another ten years._

 _Zorran was off too. Still loyal, still a creep...but Zero was beginning to wonder if the constant exposure to the Star Tugs wasn't sapping away the 'do or die attitude' that, while problematic, was still better than most of the tugs on his staff._

 _And now Zebedee had bailed._

 _Damn Johnny! He thought to himself briefly. The tramper was in dry dock too, permanently, and yet it still seemed to him that he was still pulling the strings._

 _For a moment, he was tempted to call Zorran and demand an update on the latest contract. Then he decided to hell with it, he was going to get drunk. And pulling on his old coat, he limped off towards the Bridge Cafe._

 _"What happened to the band?" He asked, settling down to a rather subdued bit of music compared to usual._

 _"Depression." growled the bartender, shoving his usual at him and storming off._

 _"Ah." Zero was very tempted to just slam his face on the counter and never wake up again. Then he saw someone who appeared to have forgotten a few things. Like her wallet. And most of her top percentage of clothes._

 _..._

"And that was how I met your mother and we had wild, passionate-"

"I THINK WE BETTER NOT TALK ABOUT THIS, LADDIE!" said John, speaking unwittingly for the most of the audience of this story.

"You're missing out! ...Ah well, after I did whatever I did with the rutabaga, I decided to head back and out. I was getting tired of it all, and I wanted to think things through now that I had taken a bit of stress off of my shoulders. And then several things happened."

...

 _Zero walked a little quickly, drawing his coat around him to try and get rid of that unavoidable chill that was in the air. For the most part, he kept his eyes solely on the ground, unless there were areas where he needed to stop and check for traffic. Even this late at night, it was likely that there were some maniacal Mr Toad type characters riding around in their motors._

 _It was as he reached the burnt out husk of the docks when it happened. A horn blasted out across the relatively quiet sea air. And he recognised that horn almost immediately, as well as the message behind it. Simply put, dangerous weather, shit will happen._

 _Zak._

 _And in the fog? ...Well, accidents did happen, after all._

 _Zero hadn't gotten to where he was now without acquiring certain instincts. Right now, his mind was blaring out at him to immediately start walking back into the city, somewhere that Zak couldn't spot him, no matter what._

 _He turned._

 _And then got the shock of his life._

 _Standing there in front of him was a man. This was not the shock. The shock was that Zero had never seen a man so old before in his life. He looked as though he was only a few layers of skin away from being a walking, talking skeleton. His hair seemed to be on the verge of dropping out all together, and his eyes...they were wild. Unfocused. As if seeing everything and nothing at the same time._

 _"Out of my way!" stammered Zero._

 _The old man gripped his shoulders, with strength that he really should not have had. "Don't!" he wheezed. "Sodor...don't..."_

 _He collapsed to the ground. Much to his horror, Zero could hear Zak gathering speed behind him. And he wasn't even remotely out of the dock yet._

 _So he did the three things he thought of first._

 _One, he took off the old man's jacket and slipped it on._

 _Secondly, he threw his own jacket atop of said old man._

 _And thirdly, he made a leap of faith off of the dock and into the water, just as Zak hit the dock at full speed._

 _The old man had just enough time to scream out "NO! NOT LIKE THIS! NOT LIKE-" before he was crushed into nothingness._

 _..._

 _Three hours later, the body that many presumed to be Captain Zero was pulled out of the wreckage of the old dock. Most of it had been completely wiped out by the force of the crash, and with forensic sciences still in it's infancy, little effort was made to see if the body was that of the good Captain. Zak was held in suspicion for a while, but eventually nothing could be proven, and after a spell in drydock, he was quick to find a sponsor for his bid for power._

 _Johnny Cuba, it turned out, had managed to get out somehow via a few connections. Bluenose, the naval ship, had a commanding officer who owed old Johnny a favour or fifty, and so got him out...just in time to effectively take over the Z-Stacks from behind the scenes, with Zak as the front man._

 _But that, as they say, is a story for later._

 _Somewhere else, Captain Zero took what remained of his fortunes and bought a first class plane ticket to London. From there, he was planning on heading towards a small Island by the name of Sodor._

 _Something about that man had intrigued him. If only because of how he seemed to know him. And Zero was not aware of every single person he had ever met in the entire world, but he was sure he would have remembered a man like that._

 _Casually, he reached into the old man's...well, to be honest, his coat pocket and pulled out a collection of things. He sorted them out and stared at them in amazement. This was unreal._

 _In one hand, he held something that appeared to be a chocolate bar sized bit of plastic. There was a screen on it, like a television, but there appeared to be a button that, when pressed, made the screen flash. He would not know this until much later, but this was what the humans called a 'mobile phone'._

 _Then there was the money. It was British, he could tell that much, but he wasn't sure who the woman on the front of it was. Nor why there was so much of it in the pockets of a man who looked more like a hobo than anything else._

 _Okay, what else? Well, there were two lists. The first was one he wasn't exactly sure about, a list of names and occasionally numbers. But the second one? That was far more interesting._

 _The header of the list, underlined in bright black ink, contained these words: ZERO'S TO-DO LIST. On it were a rather long list of dates, ranging from the current year to the year 2012._

 _At which were the simple words._

 _ZERO WINS._

 _Captain Zero smiled as he examined his new identity. Harry Topper, owner of a fairground on Sodor._

 _Well, things were about to get very interesting indeed._


	43. Episode 4: The Old Bridge

This episode is...meh. It's the first episode I can say really feels like HIT had a part in. And maybe that's just a bit of cynical thinking. After all, the proceeding episodes aren't the best that Thomas and Friends have ever done. But at the same time, they at least felt like stories that would have been done a little better if Mitton and Allcroft had more freedom. This one...it's pretty run of the mill.

As is the Zero portion today. It's essentially setting up what Zero was doing for the war, and also setting in motion plot points that have already happened. If you've been following this for long, you'll recognise the references all right.

 **Greatwestern1522:** Ha! Sort of.

 **AaronCottrell97:** That's such praise! He's so boring otherwise, aside from his character, so that means a lot.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Fergus is a complex engine. At least in my version. XD.

 **Bronze Shield:** They are very...enthusiastic, about their job.

 **Game-Watch:** That's actually referenced here.

 **MattPrice01:** The insular nature of that should hopefully end around this point. We're going back into the history of the universe of this story now, so hopefully you'll catch more references here. And thanks for the praise for Fergus!

 **JD145:** Ah, Arry doesn't count. We've got NEW ARRY now!

 **UGX7** : Hopefully the reveal of what the old man actually is will change your mind. I hope to do it in a really interesting way.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Quite so. You'll see more of that as time goes on. Though whether that is a time loop or not is...something that we will find out later.

 **Shin-Dan Kuroto** **:** That's fair.

 **Hughie96:** That's basically what he is. I've got in my mind a sort of Life on Mars/Ashes to Ashes/New Tricks style copper. And yeah, he has a unique design and the start of an interesting personality. The limitations with the model though, do explain why they weren't using him after this. I empathise with your own struggles. It's a pain.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

Did you know how pretty the Skarloey Railway is?

No?

Then we're going to spend the next twenty minutes informing you of it.

All right, Rheneas and Skarloey love working on the most wonderful, serene, calm, attractive, alluring, gorgeous, heavenly part of the otherwise shithole known as the Island of Sodor. It's so wonderful here that you could literally vomit and, upon touching the ground, it would turn into rainbows. That's just how pleasant the Skarloey Railway is. Please ignore the fact that we are showing you a ton of stock footage right now, our cameras burst into flames when matched with how lovely the railway is. So lovely, in fact, that it has been known to cure the world's ills if you stay here for more than two minutes.

TWENTY MINUTES LATER.

-And that, in turn, concludes how handsome the toilets are in this facilit-Hmm? Move on with the story? No way! The script says I get to extol the virtues of a Skarloey way of living and damn it, that's what I'm going to do!

No, YOU'RE being pedantic.

Also, something something love to puff through forest and over rivers. Though not, for the record, through the rivers and over the forests, as that would be ridiculous. Unless you were in the storyline portion of the story, in which case, that's pretty normal.

There was an old bridge that crossed over the largest river of the lot of them. This has not been mentioned before because shut the hell up, it's a big Island! Also because technically speaking it was a death trap to try and get decent shots of. The supports were beginning to rot, and the engines didn't like to use it unless absolutely necessary.

Or for a prank. That had backfired several times in the old days when it had belonged to the Mid Sodor Railway. Just ask Tim.

Who is Tim?

Exactly.

One day, Skarloey chuffed happily along. As he passed Skarloey Lake, he wondered to himself whether the next generation would be smart enough to avoid crashing into large bodies of water while drunk. He wondered if something noble would be lost if that was the case. And then he wondered whether or not the next generation would be a bunch of overly PC replacements for him and his kind.

Such was life.

He didn't see the broken rail until it was too late.

And why didn't he see it? Well to be blunt, he should have gone to Specsavers!

...That's a joke few people outside of the UK will get.

"OOF!" said he, his nose resting against the broken bit of rail. "Who put this there!?" As he dangled, he decided to take in the view of the river. Right now he was currently reassessing his opinion of what he had done with his life. Namely getting out of his shed every morning and not just going back to sleep. "HEEEEEELP!"

Rheneas quickly arrived, having been busy staring at a bit of wall to entertain himself, and rescued him. "Golly gosh oh cripes!" he said. "You were in a real pickle chum!"

"God I forgot how annoying you can be when you're like this, boyo."

...

A few days later (A few, weepy days later for the elder engine), the Fat Controller arrived with news. "The Old Bridge has been repaired! ...Eh, sort of. Apparently the owner of t'company has a fetish for impractical and old bridges. But the trucks for the workers have been left there. Off you pop, Skarloey!"

"Yes sir." He didn't want to go on the bridge again, but he forced himself to head off.

Now for some reason, he didn't take the long route and get the trucks via the Lakeside path. Instead, he decided to be a drama queen and take the shorter route, but the one that would force him to actually cross the bridge.

Skarloey was beginning to wonder if he needed something stronger than alcohol. Like glue. He started across, looked down at the running water and began to back right the hell up. Not today, thought he!

"Come on Skarloey!" said his driver. "It's safe now!"

"YOU SAID THAT ABOUT THE LAKE!"

He and his driver, who had no real control anymore so he didn't bother, went home. Rheneas's driver, bored out of his mind, said that they would pick up the trucks as long as Skarloey's driver stopped throwing scrunched up paper every time they met.

It was agreed.

"You can't live your life being scared!" said Rheneas, entering his preachy mode. "You'll have to cross that bridge sooner or later!"

"OR WHEN YE COME TO IT!"

"Thank you Duncan, I was going to try and avoid that pun, but whatever."

"I HAVE NAE SHAME!"

"We've always known that." grunted Rusty, who was knackered after having to repair yet another bloody bridge so soon after having to repair the entire line. This series could not have come for a worse time for them. Now Rheneas had to take Skarloey's work as well as his own.

And every day, he had to cross the bridge.

You can see where this is going, can't you?

Finally, the Fat Controller came to see Skarloey. "OI! MATE! You won't cross the bridge, you'll stay in here and shunt trucks! I can't have engines who won't do as they are told! ...Apart from all the ones that do!"

"Fine by me, guv." said Skarloey. The Fat Controller felt defeated somehow.

...

The next morning, Rheneas took the little coward's trucks, as per usual, before puffing through the peaceful countryside to wherever it was he had to go. He was beginning to wonder if there was any point in seeing whether that there personality transplant had actually worked. To this day, he still felt relatively empty.

"Good golly gumpkins!" said he, slipping back into his old bland ways for a moment. "What the hell!?"

He had been crossing the bridge, quite unaware of it all through his thoughts, when he came to a rather sudden stop. His water had been completely depleted. "BOTHER!" he said, managing to somehow make it sound like the worst of the worst in terms of curse words. News soon spread up and down the line, in particular to the yard.

The yard manager hurried up to Skarloey. "Oi! Lazyguts! Rheneas has come a cropper!"

"Oh...suppose I had better go and help him." yawned Skarloey, as he set off at a snail's pace. Rheneas had been very smug earlier, and he looked forward to rubbing the incident in his face. He didn't realise that he had appeared to have gone cross-eyed as he set off. Upon seeing just where Rheneas had broken on, the old engine could be heard to wonder "But can't we just leave him there?!" before grumpily setting off. The river seemed deeper than ever.

A whole...I don't know five centimetres? I mean look at it. It's practically a paddling pool for god's sake. Rheneas had an expression on his face which indicated that he really didn't want to be on this episode.

"I must rescue my friend...or brother...or whatever we are this week!"

The bridge groaned as Skarloey crossed.

"Lose some weight!" hissed the driver, and was ignored, again. Elsewhere, someone dropped dead from induced boredom.

Okay, to make a long and boring story short (Too late!), the driver coupled Rheneas up to Skarloey and they set off back over the other side and essentially the whole thing was over. Yes, I do want to be done with this, why do you ask? I've been dragged at the crack of dawn for THIS SHIT!? I was better off doing Boys from the Black Stuff, not...whatever this is!

"Thank you." said Rheneas later. "You were so gosh darn brave to go across a few feet of bridge and help me."

"Shove it up your smokebox, boyo." said Skarloey, who wanted this episode to end. Ah right, he loves his journey more than ever and he is no longer scared of the bridge.

AND THAT'S IT! I'M OUT FOR THE DAY. YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME, JOHNNY LAW.

...

"I'm going to win!?" Toby sounded incredulous. Duck looked embarrassed. "How long did you spend thinking that one up, eh?"

"I was PANICKING, all right!? I wanted to say something badass and it just sort of came out!"

Edward snorted. "So...what's the information say?"

Duck groaned. "Nothing that we didn't already suspect, but it's still disheartening to hear. Since the Duchess has been killed, the Iron Circle has gone to ground. Getting word about Scotsman is nigh on impossible, and Truro has essentially taken over fully. Boxhill's said that he's essentially cut off all ties with France and Russia, which isn't surprising given that the representatives of those countries are non-steam. What is surprising, however, is that he's talking about withdrawing completely from the Island AND from Shining Time."

"After all the stuff we went through?!" snapped Toby.

"It does make a bit of sense, though, doesn't it?" Edward sighed. "You don't have your victory the way you want it, so you just flat out deny it...Fergus. Is he trustworthy?"

"Yes." Duck said this without any hesitation. "He's morally rigid and completely inflexible. And that means no matter how corrupted the upper echelons have gotten, he'll have stuck to his guns and done his job. I don't like him. He's a throwback to the seventies in all the worst ways possible. He's got Pug's people skills and Jinty's ability to care about said people. But he does a good job, he's loyal to a fault and I think he is aware of how badly we've fallen."

"So what's his deal?" Toby asked. "I know he's supposedly ex-Sudrian Police, right?"

"Right. He was the original spy here. But unfortunately, he was posted to various smaller, less complex areas of the Island. And besides, his attitude did not lend one to bear their soul to him. You'll have worked that out by now." Duck sighed. "And he was sort of shoved around a bit. Let's see...he was working at the docks in 84, then from 86 to about...92, he was basically the go-between for the Sudrian and English police, which was a nice cushy job that got him out of the way. Then when you were kidnapped, Stepney, he was sent over to basically watch over the Bluebell until...well, things got sorted out." He gave a sympathetic glance to the golden engine. "Not my idea."

"No, it's fine."

"Er, from there he was put on the Peel Godred line, out of the way of you lot. And throughout most of that, he was my way of making sure that the information that I gave got through to the right channels." Duck sighed. "Not his fault that it turned out a lot of the information was already known to the Other Railway."

"...What's stopping that from happening this time?"

"Simple. We're not sending information off. We're getting information in." Duck winced. "And there is one...other thing that might cause some sort of alarm. A specific order came through from the company regarding a certain black diesel that we all know and hate."

"Damn." said Edward.

"Damn indeed."

...

 _1935._

 _"So...I don't...really...get it."_

 _That's because you're not supposed to. You are an incredibly stupid man who has two redeeming qualities. One, you are very easy to manipulate. Two, you can go up and act as the face of something that should keep us both in pocket for quite a bit._

 _That was what Zero would have liked to have said. Instead, he smiled and waved his hand. "Ach, dinnae worry about it...Norris. Popular name over here, so it seems. Ye just have to go out there and pretend to be Harry Topper. I'm much better with tha figures than the crowd itself. I book the acts, and ye do the introduction! Everyone loves ye, and we both get paid."_

 _That, the feckless Norris could understand. After all, half of his family had worked for the circus and/or fairground. And the other half had been attractions. It was agreed. In front of the scenes, Harry Topper was a rather loud, flamboyant and slightly insane sounding man. Behind it, he would be one hell of an entrepreneur._

 _Soon, Captain Zero was left to his own devices. He sat and looked over the map of the Island. There was a lot to be done. According to this list, and to common sense, war was on the way. And that could be very useful indeed. But first, a few phone calls. He had to get things just in the right place first. And that started with a Mr Drampf._

 _His son had nearly run him across the road as he had exited the low rent airport. And while that would have normally pissed Zero off, it presented an interesting opportunity. Harry Topper wasn't the only identity he had taken. After all, in public, Topper was going to be represented by the slack jawed yokel he had just seen out of the door. And thus the creation of ex-navy (Not a lie) and recently knighted (most definitely a lie) officer had been necessary. According to the list, there was something involving Drampf in the future. He didn't know what it would involve outside of 'politics' but at the same time...well, one could never be too careful, could they?_

 _But before he got down to that, something caught his eye._

 _The Ministry of Defence were apparently moving in soon._

 _Perhaps, reasoned Zero, he could kill two birds with one stone here._

 _After all, the famous electrical engine that the MoD bragged about could be an asset worth looking into._


	44. Episode 5: Edward's Brass Band

Now while this episode is probably the weakest Edward-centric episode of the classic series, I definitely had fun watching this. If only because it's nice to see Edward get his dues one last time, even if Edward the Really Useful Engine was a far better finale for the character.

Now, quick thing here. We're going to be moving the Zero segment up to being the first thing you see in story once we finish answering the questions in the reviews. So, that being the case, I'd advise any of you who would prefer to just get straight on with the story to skip the bit in Italics. The reason for this? Well, remember Season 8 and that thing I am REALLY excited for? Well, this is going to be continuing a running theme with Volume 2 in setting up for that, so hopefully this should give you a rough idea of where I'm going with that. Also this one is a bit of a downer. In content, I mean. It's following on from the end of Edward the Really Useful Engine, so that should give you some idea of what's going on.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yep.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Heh. He be plotting. I've not decided what the official nickname is this time around, but we'll just have to see.

 **Bronze Shield:** You've pretty much hit the nail on the head with that one.

 **Game-Watch:** It's funny you say that...we'll get there soon enough.

 **MattPrice01:** That is the plan! The bit with the narration at the beginning was my favourite part of writing this.

 **JD145:** Pretty much, yeah.

 **UGX7** : Hope you enjoy this!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Yeah, I suppose.

 **Australian Guest:** Thanks very much! And yes! Someone else who got the Specsavers reference! I'm really flattered that you binge read all the stuff, it's quite the ego boost. Heh!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

 _1935._

 _"So, what does Sodor have that could possibly interest us?"_

 _Zero took a long sip from the glass. "Well quite frankly, Mr...sorry, dinnae catch yer name?"_

 _"Hargreaves."_

 _"Hargreaves...first name?"_

 _"None of your business. Keep talking, Pugwash."_

 _Zero felt that this was an insult somehow. But he pressed on nonetheless. "I see...well then, the Island of Sodor is located in a unique position. If war were to come, then it would almost certainly be the first stomping grounds for any...invading forces. I've contacts who state that a lot of yon munitions are going to have to be stored in case of such an emergency. Now, if yer looking for a location, surely the Ministry of Defence would be insane to miss this place."_

 _"...I admit, this has been on our radar for some time."_

 _"And it's not even that technologically advanced. The Island itself is thriving, but for the most part the people merely use small towns and ports, connected by the railway, to live in. Think about how much space ye'd be saving if ye were to store all of yer lovely explosives here. A regular cache of weapons should the jackboot ever encroach upon these hallowed lands."_

 _"Ah. And the Beetle-" The small train quivered in outrage at this, but Hargreaves took no notice. "-what is it about him that intrigues you so?"_

 _"He would make quite the wee guard dog."_

 _"That the case?" Hargreaves thought for a minute. "I shall relate this back to my superiors. You have given me something to think about, Captain." But even as he hurried off, Zero could see the wheels turning in quite the wrong direction for the errant Hargreaves, or whatever his real name was. He was high on the feeling of being in one of those two fisted tales, and was not thinking about just who this Pugwash character was._

 _That overconfidence was going to be the death of him, one day._

 _"And now, mate." said Zero, his eye gleaming. "Ye and I have a little thing we need to discuss."_

 _"Like?"_

 _"Like information on-"_

 _And the band began to play. And as a plot was hatched between Davidson and Captain Zero, a few miles away, a small tender engine with blue paint and red stripes was listening, entranced, by the music._

 _If both man and engine had turned their heads just a little bit, they would have noticed each other, and quite a fair bit of what would transpire next could have been avoided._

 _But that's the way it is with hindsight._

...

 **So guys, I've been here for about a month now, and I figure it's time I started spilling the beans about my 'co-stars' as it were! Bit of a weird order, I know, but we're going to start with the Number 2 (Ha!), Edward.**

 **He is...interesting. He's probably the closest thing to a voice of reason these engines have got. And yet he's sort of...off. Apparently he never used to be like this, but things have happened. He's never been anything but polite to me, unless I insult him, in which case he just sort of gets huffy and sarcastic with me. It's fun, in it's own way, but he's actually been making sure I've been settling in all right.**

 **I mean, the others keep going on and on about some sort of Oil Wagon story that I should ask him about. He seems edgy about it for some reason, I do wonder...**

 **He's really excited recently, about some concert coming up. It's weird, but nice, to see him this happy.**

 **Apparently he used to be a lot happier once upon a time.**

 **I wonder what happened.**

...

It's summer time (But when isn't it?) on the Island of Sodor and that means two things.

One, Gordon drunkenly rambling the lyrics to 'In the Summertime' at a very confused Henry.

And two, BUSINESS IS AT AN ALL TIME MAXIMUM. As writ upon a banner hung in Knapford station. There is so much for the holiday makers to see and do, if they don't mind the secret police looking cameramen hovering menacingly over them with orders of "SMILE!" and "BE FULL OF CHEER!" every hour or so, while the original camera men just stood off to the side wondering when it was they had somehow become competent at their job.

At the seaside, Thomas was forced to take more and more passengers every day. He didn't understand why, he'd gone off the beach a long time ago. The Old Bridge was constantly a target for people to throw their rubbish at, whilst taking a ride in the one true saviour, The Big Red Balloon.

And Trevor usually had to take the Sudrian Brass Band around to play at the fetes.

On this day, Edward had woken up bright and early. "Morning!" he said, slurring his words only a little bit. "Great day, isn't it? Tomorrow's set to be EVEN better, if you can believe that!"

"...What's so special about today?" moaned Henry.

"Ahhhh, very funny, Henry." Edward winked. "Right, of course, nothing special here."

"...Well no."

"Excellent! Wink wink, say no more!"

Edward was in fine fettle that morning. He was grimly determined that he was going to be happy all day long. As he approached the station, he bumped into Stepney. "SORRY-STEPNEY-CAN'T-STOP!" And off he ran, laughing. Stepney was very confused.

Edward was happy.

He was.

He kept telling himself that over and over again.

...

"So, what's the big deal?"

"Hmm?"

Stepney glanced at Duck. "Oh, you know. Edward's been acting...cheerful again. It's weird seeing him like that after the last four years of mostly just being moodily polite." He did the engine equivalent of a shrug and sipped on his drink. "It's welcome, don't get me wrong, but...what's the deal?"

Duck shrugged. No one really knew.

...

"Soooo...how are you doing, Edward?"

"Excellent! ...You?"

"Fine. Fine. ...You're in a good mood. Smile's as broad as your smokebox."

"Is that an insult?"

"It...could be, depending on how you take it." offered Thomas. "So what's up?"

"I'm on my way to pick up the Brass Band!" Edward beamed. "They're not as good as they used to be, which given that most of them died during the RollingStock concert in the seventies, explains a lot, but still!" He was practically bouncing up and down. Thomas was amazed. "The concert's tomorrow night!"

"Don't crack your smokebox!"

"Don't you go running into a mine!"

"Touche, good sir. Touche."

Edward couldn't wait to see the brass band. He had it all in his head. The music, his friends jamming along to it, those little pieces of food that had small sticks stuck into them for no reason, the Fat Controller attempting to scat along and failing awfully...it was going to be great.

Just like last time.

Last time had been...

An experience.

So busy was he in his memories that he failed to notice the dock yard crane operator fail UTTERLY at his job, as one of the large cranes (Nicknamed Big Mickey and one who sort of flip-flopped between being sentient and...not being that, it was very weird indeed), swung round a little too fast.

This would not have been a problem if it wasn't for the huge ship's boiler attached to the hook.

Edward frowned. Death had come in many forms in his dream, but never in the shape of Big Mickey.

This unusual calm suddenly deserted him as the boiler smacked him. Right in the side of his face. And somewhere, the Phantom Slide Whistle Blower of the Island of Sodor continued their devious work. Edward wondered for a moment if he had been chewing gum recently. And then he realised that that was probably part of his cheek bone in his mouth. That...probably wasn't hygienic.

"Aw yesch." said he, trying to speak despite the pain and the blood. "I havth thorgotten the law of the univerth. Don't let Edward be happy."

And just to make things even better, Cranky caught sight of this and decided to pour salt on Edward's wounds both figuratively and very literally. "You silly little engine! You're always in the way!"

"IF I WERE ON MY WHEELS RIGHT NOW, YOU'D BE SOOOOOOOOOOO SORR-Ow ow ow ow, why do you even HAVE that much salt in that bucket?!"

"From all the fans."

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

...

The Fat Controller came immediately. ...Look, just...mind out of gutter, please. It's dirty enough as it is.

Unfortunately, immediately wasn't as precise as you would believe. He had to eat his jam doughnuts after all. And a few chickens. Roast or otherwise alive. And then he had to put his suit on, because going casual was not done. By this point, Edward was so cold that he was practically a corpse anyway.

"We're going to have to take you to the works! ...Sooner or later, I guess. Bertie's going to have to take the Brass Band. I called NOT IT on telling him, though. He's a wordy son of a bitch."

Edward was disappointed. And also in intense pain. It took the incompetent Norris's at least five attempts to lift the engine up onto the breakdown train, and a further three hours to work out where the Works was. To make matters even worse, it was one of the worst versions of the Works that had been set up.

"Ah well!" said Charlie Sand philosophically. "It could always be raining!"

...

In the midst of the rain pounding down, the lightning throwing down and the thunder...thundering down, Edward wondered if the entire Island had somehow managed to piss off some great deity above.

"You know, I've forgotten the rule of the Island. The universe hates you. Yes. You in particular." He remarked, his cheekbone now being held in place by a bit of sellotape and a lot of prayers.

"POOP POOP!"

"Blow it up your smokebox, Gordon." grunted Edward. The rain pelting down was making hard for the workman to do their jobs, and even harder for Edward to cope with the sudden emotional turmoil he was going through. He was both sad and wet. Not a good state to be in.

He had to be there to see the band.

He just had to be.

Morning came, and Edward quickly accosted the Fat Controller. "Please sir! Look, I'm fine. When the fitters are finished-"

"They won't be finished soon enough! ...The band can't wait. Especially for an engine. Sorry Edward. But Bertie's taking them. Ta for taking the fall, Simpkins! And stop sniffling, I'm sure Bertie's driver didn't mean to punch you in the nose, it was just the excitement and the copious amount of crack he had taken getting to him!" And off he walked.

Edward's wound was now being covered in a whole salt wagon's worth of salt. And no one had even removed the coal dust from his boiler.

...

Elsewhere, at Smelly-by-the-sea, Bertie was gleefully doing wheelies and donuts, all the while Percy watched on in some confusion. He wasn't the only one. The Brass Band were wondering if it was too late to head back to Barrow. Or the Fulton Ferry. It was likely to sink any day now, and they could always do a 'Nearer My God to Thee' moment as they sank to their probable deaths.

But off they went on the hyperactive bus. And for the first part of the journey, all went reasonably well.

But there was trouble ahead. The storm had sent the banks of the various canals and rivers overflowing, big time. The roads were completely flooded. For some reason, a car had come to a stop in the middle of the road, and the ducks appeared to be chewing at something suspiciously corpse like.

Bertie had been here so long that such strange stuff no longer confused or even intrigued him. "Right! Detour time!" And he backed off and turned down a by-lane. He was at least ninety percent certain that whatever happened, it wouldn't have been as bad as what had happened with all those molotov cocktails a few years back. He didn't realise until he was halfway across how muddy it was.

As in it was literally a field.

Bertie needed to go to Specsavers soon.

Soon, the inevitable happened. Bertie's wheels and the mud did not like each other. They dug in and scattered and slipped and staggered all over the place, until Bertie was quite stuck.

On the plus side, the mud once again looked like chocolate. So cannibalism was not an option, much to the relief of the rather rotund tuba player. And every time Bertie revved his wheels, they got deeper and deeper into the cake-I mean mud. But nonetheless, the band was worried. Because of course, one of the members was diabetic. So they would have to eat him.

Also, a fete or something.

"Tune up your tuba!"

"I beg your pardon, Postgate?!"

"You heard me!"

...

By now, Edward was mended (Meaning that Sir Topham was really just a really overanxious kid), and hooked up to two coaches for no real reason other than it was a thing that they had decided to do. Then they heard a sound like a squashed badger dancing across a air raid siren.

"Huh. Must be boozing night at the Badgerium." said Charlie.

"We have one of those!? And I know those sounds! That's an alarm! Super-Edward to the rescue!" And off he went. Thank goodness, then, that Bertie had broken down right by a railway line. How very convenient.

The musicians were very happy to see Edward. Not least because the tuba player was now in intense pain, but also because they recognized him, based on stories their fathers had told them. Of a concert long ago, which Edward remembered as clear as day.

Bertie was also there, but he was basically forgotten about. Which is rather par for the course for him, let us not deny it.

"I'll get you there! Come rain or come shine!"

"Ta!" said the bandmen.

And off they set, leaving Bertie to freeze for three days until someone remembered that he existed.

That night, the concert was a great success. Everyone loved the music, especially Edward. But he was most surprised when the band said they had one stop left to make. At Tidmouth, of all places.

And then it all made sense.

Edward laughed as he spotted the banner. "They did remember!" He smiled, and for the first time in quite a while it felt completely and utterly natural. They hadn't forgotten! Of course they hadn't.

They could be bad, but not...that bad.

And as he rounded the corner, he got exactly the response that he had wanted.

"Ladies, gentlemen, engines and coaches, welcome to the sheds, a blue engine we all love!"

Edward's heart began to swell, almost as much as the music was at this moment.

"He is probably one of the best people I know. When he's happy, that is!"

He was already welling up! He was impressed, he hadn't thought he had any tears left in him.

"You know him! We know him! We take him for granted so often, it's not fair to him!"

Oh Henry. This was a really nice speech.

"So now, enough of me, let's get this party started and welcome everyone's favourite!"

Edward opened his mouth to give thanks-

"GORDON!"

Practically no one noticed as the small blue engine stood, statue-like in his stillness, and just slowly closed his eyes and his mouth, as Gordon rushed past with promises of booze and strippers for all of his pals. And Edward, of course, he added after a minute.

By this point, the open wound had become a shark bite. The amount of salt was so great that it was practically bankrupting several mines in the area.

The brass band, meanwhile, had sodded off to play 'Happy Birthday' to Gordon, as well as partake in the massive cake that the Fat Controller had personally baked for him. It was about a mile in both height, width and length, and featured several well wishes from all of Gordon's friends, and even enemies. There was also a full choir joining the brass band in sending wishes to the birthday engine.

Oh, and an offer of knighthood from the Queen.

All the while this sunk in, Edward just sat on the siding, all away from the rest of the group, and looked on in complete silence.

One might have expected him to lose it at this point.

Emily and Duck were late. "Hi, Edward! Yer looking...well."

"Yep." said Edward, smiling.

"...Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Ye okay?"

"Course I am. I'm always fine." And still Edward smiled. "...Wish Gordon a happy birthday for me, will you?"

"Ye're not staying?"

"Ah. No. I've got some...work to do back at Wellsworth. Still, should be fun for you! See you tomorrow, have a good one for me." Edward quietly backed away, despite Duck's calls for him to at least wait for a moment.

"...When's Edward's birthday?" asked Emily, out of curiosity.

"Oh, er...12th of May."

"...What day is it today?"

"The...twelfth of May." said Duck with a dawning horror.

...

Edward turned around soon enough. Both Charlie and Sidney had long since left, but he could make his way back on his own. He was fine. He always had been.

And so he puffed along the Island, listening to the sound of the Brass Band getting quieter and quieter, until not even the fireworks could penetrate the quiet night. He turned a corner, and for a moment he thought he saw a familiar shadow on the line besides him. But no. No, he was long gone, that one.

He pulled into the shed so late that the trucks weren't even up any more. He backed down quietly, and mumbled something under his breath. Answering to his suggestion, one of the spare Pinchers reached out and pulled out a single cupcake, plopped it down on his bufferbeam, shoved a candle in it and lit it up. As it did so, it accidentally knocked an old record player on.

 _And the music suddenly swept him away to another time completely._

 _Edward was there. He was...alive! It was so wonderful and bright, it was almost painful. The light of the Works had been turned down quite a bit when they weren't working off the natural sunlight, but being here, out from under the gleam of it all, it was...new and exciting._

 _And the guy next to him, what was his name, Gordon! They had been constructed together, and now, as they made their way out for the first time in their lives, they trundled along towards the field where the band played._

 _And as the music came rushing towards their lack of ears, Edward stood still, in complete astonishment. He had never, in his life, heard music, and at that moment, he realised that he had missed out greatly on that account. The brass band played and played and played, like no one else in the world was here but them and Edward, and the blue engine was moved beyond words._

 _This was real. He was here. He was going to be really useful. He was alive._

 _But now others were moving forward, and with excitement now, they looked over the new engines and began to introduce themselves. And they sounded so...interested in what he had to say, what did he think of their railway so far, how did he find the trip, had the workmen treated him well? And drinks were passed around, and ribald jokes were made, and Edward found himself at the centre of all the attention And all this time, the music kept on playing._

 _All the while, he told stories and sang songs, and everyone laughed along, perhaps because of the novelty of it, or perhaps merely because the atmosphere was such fun to be in._ _And for the first, and last time in his life, Edward had been truly happy._

 _But then, as he paused to fill his drink._...he looked around.

And the reality of everything set in.

He had been carried away by it. The recording of that night, that configuration of the band, that selection of the music, and he had been so sure that everyone had remembered...but of course they hadn't. All of his friends from back then were either dead or couldn't care less what happened to him now. Even Gordon and Henry had forgotten that wonderful day.

And here he was, alone, in a damp and dingy shed that he wouldn't even keep past the end of the year, on an Island where he was the centre of mockery. The night had set in, and the cold, and the sudden realisation that this was going to be his life now.

But that was all right.

He didn't need it anyway. Any of it. Who even cared?

And so for the rest of the night, he just sat there, staring at the candle and listening to the dying record player, and wished he could be the engine he had once been, so long ago.


	45. Episode 6: What's the Matter, Henry?

The fun thing about having this episode immediately follow Edward's Brass Band is that it allows me to comment on the recent Thomas news regarding two of our favourite characters. Not to worry, this won't be that depressing, it's more comedic this time around. But it's interesting that the two engines who are being removed have episodes right after each other. Also, after taking some advice from a mate of mine who reads the story, I'm slightly altering Emily's character a bit in this one. Hope you enjoy it, and thanks for all those lovely reviews!

The plot stuff are full of references to Season 4 and 5 of the previous volume, so I will remind you of them next time.

Also, new Tales from the Abridgement will be coming out soon. It was originally meant for Halloween, but Uni got in the way, so...that was a pain. Had to postpone it for time being, but I hope I'll get it out soon.

 **AaronCottrell97:** HAPPY FUNTIMES.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Nope! And that's not going to go unaddressed.

 **Greatwestern1522:** It's called Grumpy Edward, and it stars a very old and pissed off blue engine as he goes around trying to mind his own business before other people make his life a living hell...oh wait, that's this story in a nutshell.

 **Bronze Shield:** Don't worry, this one is more light! I hope.

 **Game-Watch:** Yep! But he's a dick, so he won't!

 **MattPrice01:** The awkward bit about this is that I'm trying very carefully not to contradict stuff I've already set out in story.

 **Trainmaniac:** AWWW indeed! Those two are concerned, but they've got little real idea of where to find him.

 **JD145:** THE HAPPY DAYS ARE HERE AGAIN...for now. XD.

 **UGX7** : Yep.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Interesting that you say that. Can't wait to get to the New Series for dealing with those recruits.

 **Australian Guest:** Oh, you've got Baywatch ones, have you? We've got...well, basically a bunch of klutzes falling over each other. We had takes on Mr Men and Postman Pat before that, so Thomas shouldn't be outside the realm of possibility. SAD EDWARD INDEED.

 **Acehoneycomb:** Engines have hearts! ...Somewhere, one of these days I am going to have to make a comprehensive biology for them. XD. Thank you, it means a lot to me. And yeah, as much as they do annoy and anger each other, I think they'd really get upset if one of them left. That's a little bit of what this volume is going to be about, though I don't want to spoil too much. Trust me, I'm going to throw Edward a bone at SOME point. ...Maybe. And that's a fair question, actually. Volume 2 will be cutting off at the end of Season Twelve. Primarily because it is a nice stopping point, the end of the model era as a whole and it's also the last time we get to see several characters from HIT's New Series, so...yeah, it's a fairly decent pausing point.

 **Hughie99:** It means a lot to me to hear that. The show is dear to my heart, and I have many memories of watching it long ago, on old VHS's, and having the time of my life. And I'd like to imagine that in between all the sarcasm and the lampshading that there is something of that affection there. The funny thing is about the new Thomas stuff coming out is that it actually makes the ideas I have (Which were planned from about Season 2, to give you an idea of how long ago that was), a bit more relevant. So yeah, the stuff with Edward actually means a lot more now than it did back then. Hope you continue to enjoy!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

It was the end of a busy day.

And all the engines were heading back to the shed with, for once, a surprisingly good feeling about themselves. Well, save for Edward, but that had something to do with it raining on him all day. And SPECIFICALLY him. Everywhere else was as dry as ever.

Edward was beginning to wonder if he was an affront to the universe somehow. What was going to happen next? Writing him out of the television show?

Ahem, moving on. The engines were all pleased and proud, save for Gordon, who was looking peeved for some reason, but sssh, don't think of that, nor why he's pulling the express at sunset for some reason.

Well, most people were in a relatively positive mood save for Henry.

Now I know what you're thinking.

Henry? Noted ray of sunshine, Henry? Beloved Island beacon of positive energy Henry? Once voted man most likely to frolic in a field of wild daisies while carrying coaches full of puppies with kittens driving him on eco-friendly rainbow colored fuel Henry? THAT HENRY? SAD? Surely you must be off your rocker to make such an accusation!

Well, reality called. It wants to start kicking in. Henry was being a miserable git again. He felt ill, perhaps it was because of all the...four trucks he was pulling. That can be painful, especially when they have, let's see here...absolutely bugger all placed in them. He was really struggling with all that nothing.

Speaking of struggling with nothing, the average amount of sympathy in the sheds was so low that no one bothered recording it. Edward had been shoved back off to work with Toby and Duck on countering some new issues (The arrival of 'Diesel' and several other areas of awkwardness was worth checking out) and only Emily was there to lend a sympathetic year.

And she was busy examining her collection of rare and valuable bear traps.

Yeah, you heard me right.

"What's the matter Henry!?" asked Thomas, winking to the camera.

"My boiler's gone up the crapper!" snapped Henry, wearing his most fierce 'I hate you' face of the lot of them. He got the sense that he wasn't going to be making that face much for the next few years. "It's been grumbling all day!"

"Are you sure that wasn't just Gordon?!" crowed James, proud of his little joke. Then Gordon gave him a death glare, and he felt less proud of it.

"Maybe it was grumbling at you!"

"THAT'S NOT FUNNY YOU BLUE MISERY GUTS! YOU DON'T CARE! I HATE YOU ALL NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME! I'M GOING TO GO TELL SOMEONE WHO CARES!" And off Henry wailed, in the general direction of the nearest poetry session.

"So...you'll be looking for quite a while!" called Thomas, who was glad to have a little bit of peace and quiet. And no environmental preaching, for once, which was always a plus. But only Emily noticed that Henry was leaving a trail of water behind him as he waddled off.

"Oh great! He's pissed himself!"

But she couldn't help but feel more than a little worried. Not least because Henry had been the one person she had felt fairly confident about telling her...big secret about.

Though how big a secret it was compared to the fact that she had an entire library filled with books on coronary practices, I don't know.

...

The next day, the Fat Controller arrived at the sheds to audibly scream at the fact that Salty was working in the yard for some reason. Didn't he know that there had been orders from high up that it was the Docks or nothing else? Salty merely laughed at him and made a comment about his wife's doubloons that would have offended Hatt, had he known what the hell the diesel was talking about.

Oh, and also to give out the plot-I mean, the job of the engines.

"THOMAS PERCY HENRY! Well seeing as you were the only three here, that's a bit of bloody luck. Trucks need a-taking to the docks, because apparently we have nothing better on the itinerary today!"

"Yes sir!" said Thomas and Percy. Henry watched as they puffed away, and wondered vaguely if death would be quick for him, or would it be as slow as Gordon's self-awareness kicking into life. I.E, very slow.

"Useful engines don't complain." he said, as he began to cough up blood. As he chuffed forward, feeling worse and worse, he didn't realise that he was leaving water everywhere. He felt as though death was knocking on his boiler. But it just turned out to be Emily, dragging one of her scythes along the track.

Yes, you heard me correctly.

No, there's not an explanation for that. Write one yourself.

...

Fifteen years later, Henry had finally managed to leave Knapford area. Thomas and Percy raced forward and overtook Henry...who had somehow managed to overtake them despite being so poorly that he made Typhoid Mary look like Linford Christie.

Huh.

"HURRY UP HENRY OH SHIT I'VE FORGOTTEN HOW TO SLOW DOWN!"

"I can't...go any...faster...oh dear god this is agony. This is the last time I ever take anything from those bloody scots!"

"You're just being lazy! LAZY HENRY! ...Needs work!"

"I'm LITERALLY dying in front of you." wheezed the sick engine, as he quietly paused a second to cough up what appeared to be one of his lugns.

"Who cares!?" said Thomas, who was pretty sure that Henry was going to be fine. It was just a case of being left out of the last series and not getting much money as a result. It would pass, it always did.

At last, the two engines reached the coaling plant. And they had a plan.

"So, uh, yeah, Henry said that he wanted to take all the trucks." Thomas winked at Percy. It took him several tries, but Percy finally got it and nodded eagerly. The Yard Manager was suspicious, but not as as suspicious as he should have been.

"All of them! He's strong, after all! World's strongest engine! Am I right?"

Both engines proceeded to laugh for a good ten minutes. The Yard Manager, being slow on the uptake, agreed and did not find anything in the least bit concerning about this.

He would have had a fit had he known that Emily was talking to the Fat Controller about Henry. "OCH! I'M RIGHT WORRIED ABOUT HIM! He's been...weird! Also he appears ta have pissed his khakis!"

"...What a pleasant image. Perhaps his tubes are leaking. Much like my grandfather's. Though in that case it turned out that he was trying to kill himself...poor gramps. ...Anyway you'd better check he's not doing anything strenuous, like taking EVERY single truck in the yard on."

...

"I'VE GOT TO TAKE EVERY SINGLE TRUCK IN THE YARD ON!?" screamed Henry as he finally made it. It had only taken him so much time that it made the War of the Roses look like a advertisement for fairy liquid, but he was here.

In a matter of speaking, most of Henry's soul had conked out somewhere back in Tidmouth.

"WHY THE HELL DID THOSE TWO HELLSPAWNS LEAVE ME SO MANY TRU-Oh wait, I've forgotten, they're _them_. Also, ow, shouting makes my everything hurt." Henry paused. Had he been anything else, he would have vomited. However, engines didn't vomit, for whatever reason.

At this point, he really wished they did.

"We're still going to have to take them!" said his driver, who was busy reading the 'PHWOAR' magazine that had recently come out. Not even he cared enough to see Henry couple up to the trucks and practically gasp out of the yard at breakneck pace.

If by that, you mean that breaking your neck would be a lot faster than whatever Henry was doing.

At present, it looked like a snail moving in water, while the camera was set on slow motion. "The important thing-" he gasped as he began to feel his innards shrivel up "-is that I still have my dignity!"

There was an audible pause, at which point Karma realised this was so pathetic that even she didn't have to bother pulling out her bow and arrow trick. She just watched as a large hail cloud gathered over Henry's head.

...

Well on the plus side, thought Edward as Henry pulled his long line of trucks through his station, at least someone is having a worse day than me right now. "Need a hand, Henry!?" he called out.

"ARE YOU FREE?!"

"...Um..."

"No, didn't think so. BLOODY HELL IS THIS WHAT GIVING BIRTH FEELS LIKE?!"

"Don't give the internet ideas." said Oliver, cheerfully.

So it won't surprise you to learn that Henry eventually just broke down completely. Both literally and figuratively. He spent the next seven minutes audibly sucking in air and having to cough up several types of fluid that had no right being coughed up.

He was vaguely aware of Emily drawing up alongside him, and asking the question "Are ye all right, Henry?"

To which the obvious answer was "NO YOU GAELIC SHIT I'M BLOODY WELL NOT!"

Unfortunately, the obvious answer came up with a fresh load of fluid that had no real reason to be in his lungs, and thus he had just about enough time to scream out a "No!" before returning to his new home, namely, the ground.

As the fireman uncoupled the trucks, Emily backed down onto Henry and was coupled up to him. "So...ye wanna hear a secret?"

"Will it stop me from dying?"

"Probably not."

"Then...no...thank you." he said it with as much politeness as he could, given that his body appeared to be already starting to mould.

"I'm not actually the blogger. I sort of record the results and let someone with a wee better use of grammar take care of it for me! She's really into Thomas. Like, stalker levels of into it. You'd like her, actually, Rosie's an acquired taste but-"

"LITERALLY DYING HERE HELP."

...

At the docks, James was crowing. "HA HA! You're in trouble!"

"Ha ha! You're a bastard!"

"Killer comeback, Thomas."

"...Was that sarcasm, Percy? I can never tell with you."

"I'm not going to give away my secrets."

At that moment, Henry was dragged in. The Fat Controller congratulated Emily and then turned to Henry. "You were brave, and a little daft, Henry! You weren't well but you tried to pull the heavy train anyroad!"

"I know sir. I WAS THERE!" wheezed Henry.

Thomas and Percy felt ashamed.

"We're sorry, Henry! ...God that feels weird to say."

"We didn't know you were ill, we just thought you were being a hypnotist." Percy frowned. "Er, a hypoconman? No, that wasn't it! Er...long word, means someone who basically whinges a lot."

"A bitch?"

"That's it, Thomas."

"This is a very odd apology." muttered Henry.

"Right, for that dog's dinner of an apology, go back and collect all those trucks!"

"God damn it." muttered Thomas, as he and Percy set off to do actual work for once. Henry, meanwhile, was towed away by James and Emily to the Works, and was quickly examined.

...

After a period of uncomfortable testing, of which Henry was awake and aware for it, the fault was discovered and Henry was soon back out on the rails. Emily whistled to him as he arrived, slightly less triumphantly than the last time he had had to be shoved into intensive care. And no one really came to wave him back. Honestly they were glad to get him out of the way.

"Yerrrr looking so much better! Though ye could do with a facelift!" said Emily, channelling Mrs Goggins.

"They've mended me tubes! But the lazy sods didn't even look at me brakes! Me gauges! Me squeaky wheels! I don't know when I've become a stereotypical character in some sort of old sitcom, but me god, it's getting old!"

"OCH HENRY! All in good time!"

"NONE OF YOU CARE!" wailed Henry. "YOU'LL MISS ME WHEN I'M GONE!"

...

"The war was hell, but you should know that by now. But it was good for me." Zero leaned back in the boat and lit a cigar up. "Ah, but they were grand times. People feared, and fear, my boy, is the greatest advertisement one can ask for."

"...What side were ye on? Because I ain't no Nazi lover, bucko!"

"Oh, don't get me wrong. It was in my best interests to ensure that the Nazis never won the war. If they had their way, their idea of one race, one ideal, one everything, well...the amount of business I'd have been able to take part in would have dropped by a whole three quarters. Sides, the Colonialist Britain, the Communist Russia, the Isolationist US and...whatever the hell France was, kept me busy enough.

...

 _1939._

 _"So, what are these parts for, then?"_

 _The rather heavyset lad coughed. "Trade secret."_

 _"Get off with yerself, ye shite. Yer Hatt's boy, right? Ye got plenty of engines and people to bug, what's with all this skullduggery?!"_

 _"Are you going to sell them to me, or am I going to have to-"_

 _"What? Get rough? Laddie, ye may be fatter than an elephant in a cheap as shit suit, but yer sure as shit not got the force to back it up."_

 _"...It's for an engine me and my friend are building. A coffeepot." Topham Hatt handed over the money and shamefacedly gathered the parts up and stormed off. Zero smirked. Oh now this was going to be fun._

 _A coffeepot, though? That was rare. Especially nowadays. He sat down, and began to think. Something he had quickly noticed was that if you wanted to go anywhere in life and on this Island, then you had to be related to some old arse family._

 _So perhaps there was something in that-_

 _"Excuse me, sir? ...Oi, ye fecking Scottie prat!"_

 _Zero looked up at that strange, melodic, Irish accent, combined with words that made the Bridge Cafe mosh pit sound like Shakespeare in comparison. The redhead in front of him crossed her arms and pouted._

 _"Ye got any of that good shit ta drink!?"_

 _"...Sure. Strong stuff?"_

 _"It had better be!"_

 _"...So, Miss...er?"_

 _"Packard. Not that it's any of yer fecking business!"_

 _"Packard." Zero's mind immediately raced into action upon recalling that one of the big supporters of the war effort were the Packards. And wouldn't you know it, here was a lovely...if foul mouthed, member of that family standing right in front of him. "First name?"_

 _"Jane. ...Ye fancy a shag?"_

 _Zero was impressed. Usually he had to say more than four sentences before getting this far. "That's a...forward attitude ye have. Yer sure I can be trusted."_

 _"Look at me arms, ye haggis eating shite, think I can't take ye."_

 _She had a point there._

 _..._

 _1940._

 _"Ello Ello Ello! What's going on ere then?"_

 _"...Evening officer. Ye appear to be missing a wee few arms there, can we help ye with that?" Jane laughed in the back of the car, and Zero smirked as he saw Fergus glower in anger. "What's the issue?"_

 _"In the car! AT NIGHT?! What if Jerry saw you copulating in the back there, with that light on and decided to strike?!"_

 _"Then he'd be incredibly petty?"_

 _"...Miss, please, put your clothes back on. The constables are getting ideas about what kind of women you are."_

 _"And they are ABSOLUTELY RIGHT! Who the feck are ye to question me life choices!?"_

 _"Ye heard the lady, Fergie." Zero paused. "Actually, come to think of it, aren't ye wasting yer time with us when there are actual war profiteers out there? Go on, scoot, we'll move out of the way if ye want."_

 _Fergus growled and moved off. All of his constables did as well._

 _..._

 _1941._

 _"Hello there, Drampf! Pleasure to meet ye!"_

 _"Keep your voice down!" hissed the younger Drampf. Davidson came to a rather grumpy stop, and his driver clambered down, taking great care not to touch the electrical skirt. "This one has anger management issues. One moment, he's all posh, and the next he's practically a woman."_

 _"Casual sexism aside, I have come to make a request of ye."_

 _"...Oh?"_

 _"There's a shipment coming in soon from the MoD. About twelve kilograms of related explosives. Make sure at least seven of those kilograms come my way, if you dinnae want Fergus to know just how much yer hiding in terms of cash from yer little...ah, exercise."_

 _"...Don't sell them off!"_

 _"Oh my tiny handed friend, no! It's for, ah, personal use."_

 _..._

 _1942._

 _"And ye...what are ye qualifications for this voyage?"_

 _"Well sir, I know how to tie knots, sir."_

 _"Mr...Reginald, was it? I really don't care if ye know how to tie yer bloody shoelaces! Are ye fine to come with me on a mission to save the war? It'll involve lots of big bangs! And it might take us two or three years to start off. I've already had to reject Old Man Henshaw, he's going on and on about setting up some sort of political party for Drunken Sailors. He doesn't have 'time' for a 'jaunt'...why's he even called that anyway, he's thirty!"_

 _"If there's a steady paycheck in it, I'll do whatever you say."_

 _"Smart man. Ye'll go far as me first mate." Zero stood up, shook hands and moved off. John Drampf was off for the night, frequenting one of the local nightclubs that had a rather seedy reputation. He would have gone himself, but getting in nice and close with the Packard family had taken a sweet, sweet amount of time, and he wasn't going to jettison this by screwing around with some dumb floozy._

 _No. Those days were over._

 _"Well well well, lovely to see you out here."_

 _"...Davidson. What is it?"_

 _"Dead body. Need to take care of it. Can't have the police investigating it." Behind Davidson, Zero could indeed see the body of one of the Inspectors who came every so often to make sure that the Beetle was working. He appeared to have been both run over and electrocuted._

 _But considering that he still needed that favour, Zero really had no problem with burying yet another corpse._

 _..._

"And then, in 1943, I met someone who changed the direction of my life forever."

 _..._

 _1943._

 _The man was quite large, though not to the level of the Hatts, and with a little grin, he sat down in the seat opposite Zero. The 9:30 from Maithwaite was being pulled by Flying Thistle today, so Zero wasn't used to this guy. Someone had uncharitably mentioned him before hand, however, calling him a 'Fat Director'. The name suited him._

 _"Who are ye and what do ye want?" Zero looked up and jumped back. Standing besides the gentlemen in question were three figures. He recognized two of them as visitors from somewhere named Camberwick Green. Military men, the both of them. Captain Snort, and Sergeant Major Grout, or so he remembered._

 _The other figure, dressed like that of a clown, was...far less recognizable._

 _"Oh, my name is Lord Belborough, formerly of Chigley, and currently the owner of an organisation known simply as 'The Other Railway'. And I was wondering if there was anything that I might say to interest you in a job with us."_


	46. Episode 7: James and the Queen of Sodor

For those wondering, Belborough, Snort and Grout are from the Trumptonshire trilogy. One might recall way back in Season 3 that some sort of misfortune befell the area. Well, let's see what kick-started the whole affair, shall we? The Clown, however, is...a combination of things, but we'll get to that in time. Also, quick note, Emily's character is once again proving difficult to write. Hopefully the long scene in the bar at the end has cleared stuff up for you.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Apologies for that. It was one of those lines that came off better as a joke in my head than how I wrote it out. Hopefully we'll have settled down a bit now with regards to Emily. And yes, he must beware the pink one.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : IT'S A STRESSFUL TIME.

 **Bronze Shield:** So did I! But apparently not.

 **Game-Watch:** You never know. I'm certainly going to miss him.

 **MattPrice01:** INDEED. Happy birthday!

 **JD145:** I hope it is!

 **UGX7** : Thank you! I am struggling to write Emily at the moment, but hopefully I'm getting there. And hey, outrageous accents, am I right? Yeah, they're not being fully removed, but being cut from the MAIN cast feels like a bit of a slap to the face.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Yeah, pretty much!

 **Australian Guest:** Huh, that sounds...huh. Still, kinda funny in a way. But yeah, the ones that ape the old cartoons are funny. Yes, Henry is legitimately ill here, and writing that, I found myself feeling sympathy for the poor sod. Not so much as to cut back on the pain but, what the hell. XD.

 **Acehoneycomb:** It is ominous. It's actually pretty fine for me in this episode, as it does appear to be just a one off. Little did we know... Yeah, I too am going to miss Duck go. I've enjoyed writing him over the past years. Just have to see what happens next.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

The engines on the Island of Sodor want to be responsible, reliable, really useful and recked. ...No, I know that's not how you spell wrecked, sue me, I wanted to make an alliteration joke.

NO YOU'RE PEDANTIC.

Anyway, the engines were all working hard. Some of them were having flashbacks to Series 3, which is totally why that clip of Duck and Oliver is from an episode there, not because the budget was blown on getting better cameras, shut up, who will even notice. It's not Thomas and Friends fans are known for picking up on errors are the-Oh shit we're screwed.

Oh, er, and they're happiest when they're working hard.

Now just ignore the fact that we've got a clip of Skarloey looking enraged there. And also that- Wait, MORE STOCK FOOTAGE?! We are boned, aren't we?

Ahhh. Moving on.

James.

Okay, uh, got the bingo card here. It's a great game, Angelis Cliche Bingo. Especially the James edition. He thinks his work is VERY important indeed. Check. He is proud of his red paint- CHECK -and likes to look clean and tidy. CHECK.

And if you've got all those squares, congrats! You win frontrow tickets to the rest of the season, where we'll probably be getting out our bingo cards a lot more.

...

One day, Percy puffed to the washdown. The washdown, for those not in the know, is apparently right smack in the middle of the shed area. So really, one could just put them in the actual sheds and do the washing there, but whatever. Gordon was angrily staring at James's arse and wishing that the red engine would move it.

Henry was on the turntable. He had seen some shit with the latest batch of BOILER BUSTERS, the hippest drug on the streets. He wasn't going to be doing much for the next few days.

"MY WHISTLE IS CLOGGED!"

"So's your brain, but you don't here me complaining." muttered Gordon. Karma rewarded him as Percy's attempts to dislodge his whistle somehow ended up covering him in mud.

From the quarry.

Yeah. You work it out.

"SILLY!"

Percy tried not to laugh. And failed.

"KEEP YOUR FILTHY FACE AND FILTHY MOUTH AND FILTHY BODY IN THE GUTTER, WHERE IT BELONGS! I'm collecting the murr today!"

"The what?"

"I think he means Mayor."

"That's what I said! The murr!"

"...Does he-"

"Don't tell him, it'll only upset him." Gordon paused as it sunk in. "HANG ABOUT!? Taking the mayor to MAYORAL THINGS?! I met the Queen you little shite, I should do that!"

"YOU!?" scoffed James, his nose growing and growing even longer so that he could properly look down at Gordon with it. "Really!? You couldn't take an asprin! AND YOU'D NEED A WASHDOWN FIRST! KARMA DON'T SCREW ME ON THIS! GIVE ME THIS!"

"Pah!" snorted Gordon, using his word of the day. James laughed, and wondered where his eyebrows had gone, before puffing off to deal with the murr. I mean mayor. I mean...you know what I mean.

Also, Salty was there.

AGAIN.

...

"JUST LOOK AT ME GORDON!"

"You look like a tool, showoff." snapped Gordon as he passed James and his single coach. That seemed like overkill to Gordon, who had long since forgotten the many, many occasions where he had taken special guests using only one coach.

He was back at the sheds in time to see the Fat Controller make his arrival. "I NEED AN ENGINE TO COLLECT THE QUEEN OF SODOR!"

"But the gay pride parade isn't for another three months!"

"Ha ha, Thomas. How very PC of you."

"Okay assho-Sir. ...I said sir. Who is the Queen of Sodor?"

"A leaky old barge that smells and brings nothing to the table." The Fat Controller read the mind of every engine there and made the 'Your Mother' joke along with them. Except for Henry. He was wondering if the sun was edible, and if so, would it taste of lemons or oranges. "She needs to go to the works! It's dirty work, I'm afraid."

Gordon spotted James arriving and had one of his few flashes of inspiration. "Collecting the Queen of Sodor is, er, important work, is it, sir?!" He said, as politely as possible without vomiting.

Hatt stared at Gordon in some confusion. "...Yeah yeah, whatever, the Queen's important shit, what's your point?"

"QUEEN?! I LOVE THAT BAND! AND THE WOMAN! And very important work, you say!? I am literally dripping with importance! I SHALL DO IT!"

"Ew. ...Then it's settled, you weirdo. She's waiting at the canal!"

"THANK YOU SIR!"

"Please stop shouting."

"NO PROMISES SIR." And off James stormed to collect the Queen.

in the wrong direction.

Gordon and Thomas grinned at each other, for once on the same page.

...

Once James had worked out which one of the MANY canals Sir Topham was talking about, he sauntered along cheerfully. He arrived at the area and looked at the workmen. "I'M HERE TO COLLECT THE QUEEN OF SODOR!"

The workman looked at James, then at his buddy, then at James once more, before giving the biggest shit eating grin of his life and pointing over his shoulder with the glib words "There she is!", and then ran off, giggling.

James looked.

That's funny, he thought. That the Queen of Sodor should be at the canal for some reason. Maybe she was behind this rather large barge.

That rather large, smelly barge.

That rather large, smelly, brimming with death barge.

Then he paused.

Ah, thought he.

I appear to have been sold up shit creek. And wouldn't you know it? No paddle.

Of course, this was only later when he was able to organise his thoughts properly. At that moment of time when he worked out at the large, smelly, brimming with death barge was the Queen of Sodor, his thoughts were an indecipherable yet clear meaning for the word RAGE.

"THAT OLD TUB!?" He screamed. "IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE IT'S EVEN A FREAKING PAGE BOY, NEVER MIND A QUEEN!"

"Nonetheless." said the workman's buddy, also grinning. "It is."

"GORDON! YOU BUGGER I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS!" James seethed, and then in a low whisper, he added. "So. You want me dirty, do you? I'm going to be so clean, it'll make you blind!"

That insult didn't really make sense, but he didn't care. He coupled up to the old barge and grimly started off. It was a long journey to the workshops, but even as everyone laughed around him at the sight, James never once stopped. It was surprising how forceful he could be once he had decided on something.

Every so often, a burble would come from the barge, and each time James would quicken his pace, determined not to lose to Gordon. Spite and principle were guiding him quite far. And as he stormed forth, he kept repeating as a mantra "SHINY AND CLEAN, SHINY AND CLEAN!"

Then there was trouble. For some reason, they hadn't put James at the front, and so the tall funnel smacked straight into a pipe carrying gunge and other such stuff to be transported to the nearest Nickelodeon TV show. It splattered down.

James thought he was going to die, but by some miracle, all of it missed him. Not even a drop landed on him.

"Give up! Give up!" snarled the crew, who were fed up. "You can't do this!"

"I CAN! AND I WILL! SHINY AND CLEAAAAAAAAAAAN."

He was on his way the second the mess was cleared. And soon, he arrived at the Smelters, passing several awkwardly familiar looking pieces of scrap. He was pleased the dirty work was done, and left Arry and Bert to figure out how the hell they were going to fit the barge into the incinerators.

...

"STICK IT, GORDON!"

"Oh dear." said Gordon. Actually he said something stronger than that, but for sake of argument, we'll shorten it. Henry, meanwhile, was of the belief that the rails beneath him were made of licorice, and was therefore having to be stopped from eating them by Duck. "How did you stay so clean!?"

"Because I have to!" said James in a lofty tone of voice. "You wouldn't understand, being BLUE. What if there's important work to do!? I would be RUINED!"

Then Percy arrived from the quarry. "STILL CLOGGED! WATCH OUT JAMES!" He wailed, and blew loudly. James grinned, still stuck his own ass.

Then he realised he was covered in quarry dust.

"I did warn you."

"You need a wash down now." teased Thomas.

"OH!? REALLY?!" shrieked James. "THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME! HOW WOULD I NOT HAVE KNOWN THAT I NEED A WASHDOWN!? GOOD! WHO EVEN CARES!? It'll make me readier than ever! I AM SO SPLENDID! AAAAAAAAAARGH!"

The engines said "Oh!" in harmony as James sodded off to have his freak out.

...

"What even is this?"

Three hours later, and the yard had been closed down. Save for the seven engines currently staring at their drinks with a mixture of confusion, anticipation and annoyance, no one else was here. Percy had been shoved from behind the Sidings counter, instead allowing a computer to get their orders in.

"I think-" said Henry, face down in his own misery "-that this is the Fat Man's attempt at 'bonding'."

"Nah, if that were the case, yon would be drowning in cream cakes and buns and weight-watchers programs!" Emily grinned. "Mind, I've had worse."

"Oh yeah? Stick around. It'll make wherever you came from look like a teddy bear's picnic." Toby looked enviously at the selection of drinks. "Mind, that stuff does look rather delicious."

"Don't give into it! This is how it starts! We give in to this PC attempt at sitting around in a circle and singing Kumbaya, WE MIGHT AS WELL DRINK THE KOOL AID WHEN IT GETS PASSED AROUND!"

"If I had to listen to yer ugly mug all day, I'd probably beg for the sweet release of death." Emily murmured. Toby, who had taken a sip despite Gordon's protests, choked on it and started to audibly snigger.

"So...Emily, I'm curious about something."

"Shoot, blueberry!"

Edward looked pained. "Is...Is that my nickname now?

"Ye cannot rush art."

"Unless you are James, in which case, yes you can." said Henry, eyeing the drinks enviously. The issues with his tubes meant that drinking was out of the question for the next two months. He wasn't jealous. Not at all. Not ever.

"Ah, but what were ye curious about?"

"Oh, uh, why it is that you've turned your shed in to a Home Alone style deathtrap. You know, with scythes and axes and bear traps, oh and of course, twelve nail guns." Edward shrugged. "I mean, first you were a blogger, then you were the Angel of Death, now you're sitting here drinking beer and mocking Gordon. It's a bit confusing."

"A bit confusing?! Have ye SEEN this island?! There are a near endless parade of jackarses called Norris! Signals barely work when they're supposed to! There's an entire caste system based around shoving the wee bastards down and letting the long pricks rule supreme! Yer technology's stuck in the fucking dark ages compared to the rest of the bloody UK! Half the Island can actually swear like actual adults, and then there's this one arse who gets CENSORED FOR SOME UNKNOWN REASON! AND YER PICKING UP ON ME BEING A BIT OFF?!"

"...Well, quite frankly, yes."

Emily deflated. "Fair enough. This is really a big deal for me, career wise. I dinnae want to fade into the background, so ye gotta get a quirk."

"Quirk?"

"Oh yeah! James is vain, Henry's a hippie, Gordon's a bragger, Percy's a bit slow on the uptake, nae offence, Perce-"

"No argument from me!"

"-Edward's the mopey one, Toby's basically calm, and Thomas is-"

"Wonderful! Clever! Intelligent! Witty! Kind!"

"-a cocky prat!" Emily grinned slightly. "And, ye know, ye gotta stand out a bit here. So I figured I'd try a few things. One of the few engines alive who knows how ta work a 'com-pu-terr', then a deadly assassin-"

"Duck did it better." said Gordon, churlishly.

"-And, er, well it didnae click. I just really don't want ta be tha girl on the team. Y'know? I don't want the fact that I'm one of two lassies on the Island to be me defining moment."

"What are you talking about?" Henry grimaced as he lowered his voice, loudness apparently injuring his innards even further. "I mean, we've got plenty of women here!"

"Who aren't coaches?"

"Um..."

"...Yeah, that's what I thought." Emily groaned. "God, this is a right mess."

"Welcome to Sodor. Where we're all right messes." said Toby. He paused, and in a slightly gentler voice, continued. "You're doing fine, by the by. And this coming from an engine who slips into the background periodically."

"Yer being silly! Yer a square!"

"I'll have you know I was pretty revolutionary back in the day!"

"No...No I meant yer literally a-"

"Oh...right...trust me, that didn't stop the idiots over there from thinking that I was a talking shed for three whole weeks."

Emily let out a loud, hearty laugh at this. Henry turned red, and Thomas awkwardly coughed for a few minutes. "Well, er, be that as it may, I think we should probably start with the drinking."

"Wait, you haven't!?" Edward sounded incredulous. "I didn't even wait for you arses, I just got right in!"

"THAT'S MY KIND OF MAN!" Emily had already emptied three bottles, and was starting on her fourth as she spoke. "So...I'm curious, is there a queen here?"

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THE DAY I'M HAVING!" cried James as he rushed in, funnel wrapped up in curlers.

"Ah. Dinnae mind. Apparently there is."

Amidst the loud roars of laughter from the others, James glared at Emily. "Don't you start you little minx! I have been through HELL TODAY! HELL!"

"Come on James, you're not you unless you're drunk." Thomas slid over a bottle, and the red engine gulped it down, still fuming. "Better?"

"HELL NO! I'M STILL ENRAGED!"

"Now you know what it's like for the rest of us." mumbled Henry.

"So Edward, how about that oil wagon incident?"

"How about it indeed, Gordon? Or, we could sit here and talk about climbing hills."

"LET'S GET TO DRINKING!" said Gordon, hurriedly.

...

 _"Ye know, this is very awkward."_

 _"I know, us accosting you in a public train like that, it wasn't very subtle at all. My apologies, Mr Pugwash. Or Mr Zero. Or Mr Topper."_

 _"Don't know those last two, mebbe ye've got the wrong lad."_

 _"No. I think not."_

 _"Anyway, it's a bit of a wee way out, isn't it? Chigley. Trumptonshire, right? Bit of a backwards county. Only just discovered steam. Time flies by, apparently, when ye're a driver of a train, especially when it's speeding out of Camberwick wi' a cargo of cocaine."_

 _The Fat Director smiled. It was...pleasant, actually. "Ah, you've heard of us. The Other Railway. Effectively, most of the big four are looking to do an unofficial merger. So we've stepped in to make sure that the trains run on time."_

 _"Sounds like yer on the wrong side. Yer not Mussolini or something, are ye?"_

 _"No! I am a true patriot! Ask the two soldiers here!"_

 _"And, er, the clown?"_

 _The clown smiled. If it had been a few decades later, Zero would have drawn a link between that clown from Ashes to Ashes to this one. As of this moment, however, he was more distracted with the way that the clown was standing ever so slightly in his comfort zone._

 _"My friend is a rather curious individual. He's here to, ah, make sure that you are not inclined to miss a word of my conversation. ...I am not here to hurt you, if that is what you fear. Nor is he. Or either of our military men."_

 _"Could have fooled me."_

 _"No, we've just been in the business of putting two and two together. Such as, say, a man turning up out of nowhere relying on connections to a long incarcerated felon to get his way into a position of power, and a fair bit of missing munitions that mysteriously aren't to be accounted for."_

 _"...No idea what ye-"_

 _"You do. You know what I mean. Captain Zero. Second biggest business in Bigg City, and suddenly you die in a freak accident with one of your tugs. I don't think so." The Lord took the nearest glass and examined the wine in there very carefully. "It didn't take long for my organisation to track things down."_

 _"Organisation? MI5? MI6? CIA? FBI? Surely not Russian, ye don't smell of vodka and regret."_

 _"Funny. Funny joke. No, what we represent will be explained should you agree to certain terms and conditions. ...The explosives. Enough to level a small building, according to the reports. And there are a few of the old sailors around here that have been making tracks towards the docks. Almost as if they've got a new job. ...Revenge, Captain, is not exactly a profitable business."_

 _"Look. If ye're here to arrest me, or kill me, do it."_

 _Belborough laughed. "Not quite. Matter of fact, we were rather wondering if you wanted any more explosives to add to your already impressive collection."_

 _Zero blinked. He tried to speak. He couldn't. He tried again. Still nothing._

 _On his third attempt, he managed to blurt out a somewhat undignified "Huh-what?!" that got a snicker from Grout, though Snort's face barely moved an inch._

 _"Bigg City is good for a lot of things. But there is something coming, something bigger than anyone believes. And we need you to see if it lies there. The bombs will be enough to wipe out the entire dockside area. Anywhere that the river or the sea wraps around, fry it, unless this-" He pointed to a picture "-is in it."_

 _It was funny, Zero would reflect decades later with the benefit of hindsight, how badly everyone had misjudged where Lady was. Not just now, when they actually sitting no less than fifteen miles from where she was hiding out with Boomer and the rest, but years later. Everywhere but Shining Time had been searched with a fine comb. And even then, Boomer had screwed looking at Shining Time up because he had somehow missed his old friend._

 _But looking at the picture, of a blurry engine rushing towards a large fireball in the distance, he had no idea what the future had in store for him._

 _"Say I agree." said he. "What exactly do I get?"_

 _"A steady income. A chance to disappear before whoever is at the war office decides your efforts are no longer to be tolerated. A second life. ...All of these things, plus a job for life. You won't be in charge, but you could be big. Second in command, even."_

 _"Ah." Zero thought for a minute. "When do I leave?"_

 _"...Tomorrow, if you wish."_

 _"...Ye have a deal."_

 _"We have a deal, what?"_

 _"...A deal, sir."_

 _"Excellent!" The Lord beamed. "Then let us get to work."_

 _That night, Zero and his crew headed off towards Bigg City Port, for the first time since that fateful night, he was going home._

 _And, as it turned out, for the last._


	47. Episode 8: The Tea Shop

Now, quick heads up here. This one features the Tugs characters. Now granted, this is probably the last time we'll see them for a bit, and it's more to clear up one or two minor plot elements I had intended to clear up when TUGS Abridged was updated regularly, but it's also to sort of move us on to the next big reveal. Namely...well, you'll see at the end. I fully expect 'WHAT THE FUCK' from the last line, and I will go into more detail next time. But this episode is so thin on stuff anyway, so I've decided to add a nice bit of plot. For those who don't like that, it doesn't intrude on the story before the actual episode, so you can just stop right there and move on if it's not to your liking.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Indeed! I have issues with his narration from about this point onwards, but he's a lot of fun here. His James is still the best take on the character, IMO.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : A rather apt summary of things.

 **Bronze Shield:** Mostly they've just sort of accepted it. The Island's pretty insular...for now.

 **Game-Watch:** And there's more to come on that front!

 **MattPrice01:** I'M GLAD SOMEONE DOES.

 **JD145:** The answers will be revealed...RIGHT NOW.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** So that's one for lemons then. XD.

 **Australian Guest:** Doesn't it just! And the James funnel-rollers bit was just a really funny image to me. Glad you liked it!

 **Acehoneycomb:** Hmm, that's right. What IS the clown? ...Spoilers. Hehehe. AH OF COURSE. GRAPEFRUIT. HOW COULD I HAVE FORGOTTEN.

 **The Nerdinator:** A whole lotta knives!

 **Guest:** You'll see!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

It was a hot day on the Island of Sodor.

I'll let you pick your jaws off the floor.

And on the Narrow Gauge Railway, things were going much the same way that they often went. Namely, with brief flashes of competence buried under a shit-ton of lunacy.

The engines had been forced, once again, to take slate and rock from the quarry to wherever it was needed. Given that at this point, a sweat-box in the Sahara desert was the only place hotter on Earth than the quarry was, they were all aching and utterly miserable as they forced themselves back home every night.

And on the afternoon in question, Skarloey arrived furiously. He was redder than usual, and for once, not due to him drinking. "THE BLOODY TRUCKS HAVE ALL BEEN SHUNTED!" He raved, not caring one jot about his grammar. "AND I AM DONE."

"I thought ye were Skarloey-"

"NOT NOW, DUNCAN!"

"I'm too thirsty to feel useful!" wailed Peter Sam. "And so is Mr Hedgehog! Isn't that right, Mr Hedgehog? ...Mr Hedgehog?!"

"Peter Sam." said Rusty, awkwardly. "I don't know how to tell you this, but Duncan ran over Mr Hedgehog a few days ago."

"WHAT!?"

"Heatstroke, apparently."

"CURSE YOU! WAS DUKE NOT ENOUGH, GOD!? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO TAKE THE BEST HEDGEHOG IN THE WORLD?!"

...

The sun was making people thirsty too. For some reason they didn't go to the large massive areas where water was, instead preferring to queue up in an orderly fashion to get lukewarm tea served to them by a cockney doing a terrible Italian accent.

You know. The British way.

The Refreshment Lady's tearooms were packed. She had moved upwards to where the little engines roamed primarily so that she could get some of that sweet, sweet merch that the savvy owners of stations had been selling.

Later on, a grieving Peter Sam was called up there by the Fat Controller. "The Refreshment Lady needs a new place for another tea room!"

"Is it a slow day running a railway sir, or what?"

"Very slow, Peter Sam. Very slow. Look, just do it and I'll get you a new hedgehog, kay?"

"I shall find her THE BEST TEA ROOM EVER."

"Don't over-hype it." said a weary Hatt.

"I knew it! Ta ducks!" said the Refreshment Lady, who had dropped her Italian accent because she was off duty now. And also looking completely different but hey, continuity errors? Here, on the Island of Sodor? Never! "It'll be a piece of cake, treacle!"

"Danny Dyer's got a more subtle accent than you." murmured Hatt. Peter Sam had a different and more personal issue with it.

"Tea rooms don't live in cakes!"

Everyone around the Island felt a sudden sensation. As if the stupidest thing ever uttered had just been uttered. By the time the next few series's rolled around, that sensation would be a weekly habit.

"It's just an expression you silly lump of school!"

"Lump of-?"

"FOOL!" roared the Refreshment Lady. "YOU IDIOT, DO YOU NOT KNOW THE SLANG OF MY PEOPLE?!"

"...Let's say I do, and pretend that you don't."

"You div!" The Lady turned back. "It means, you twit, that much like Fat Man's mother, it's fun and easy to do!"

"...I mean, you're not wrong, but you really shouldn't say it." said Hatt, blushing.

...

"And this is a nice spot!"

"PS, it's a bloody bridge, mate."

"EXACTLY."

"...Moving on."

PS, who was...well, you figure it out, puffed along the woodland way wildly without worry or wariness. And yes, I am going to be using a lot of alliteration. Get used to it. Or else be prepared to get really sick of it fast. Who am I kidding, it's getting old even here.

As he puffed by the Skarloey Lake, he wondered why the hell he had bothered taking a coach that could probably be put to better use elsewhere instead of just having the Refreshment Lady stand in his cab. He then decided to stop thinking about it, as he saw a nice buttercup.

"What about here?!"

"A old castle causeway. Yes. This is where I shall sell people me baps. The hell's wrong with you?"

"I get the distinct impression that you're not impressed with my skills."

"You would be right, you old shucker."

"Oh, I get what that means. ...Rude."

It was when Peter Sam arrived at the Whispering Waterfall, so nicknamed because any attempts at speaking here would be like trying to whisper in a bell-tower, that the Refreshment Lady decided to confirm a sneaking suspicion that she had had for a while now. "You're pretty much doing this because the others don't want you back at the sheds, right?"

Peter Sam stammered out "N-No! Of course not!"

"Right."

"I'm here because I want to! And not because they're all having a card game and apparently I bring the mood down." Peter Sam began to sniffle. "I MISSSSSSS DUKE!"

"Oh well this is a fine how do you do." growled the Refreshment Lady.

At last, they made it back to freedom, in the form of the station. "Ta very much, ducks." said the Refreshment Lady, who was not impressed in the slightest. "But I dunno what to do, I can't make up me bleeding mind!"

"A bleeding mind sounds unhealthy!" said Peter Sam.

She ignored him. "What a shame I can't build a tea room in each place! Or anywhere else that doesn't involve having to deal with you!"

Peter Sam felt disappointed. He didn't feel really useful. As if he ever did, but it wasn't usually rubbed in his face quite so vigorously.

...

"Oh. Yer back. How nice." Rusty glared at Duncan, as the half-hearted attempt at greetings died a slow painful death. Peter Sam shivered as he entered, there was a cold chill in the air.

At which point, a storm managed to move in quite out of the blue and began to pelt it down. Lightning flashed ("Oh, put it away, Lightning!" cried Skarloey. Lightning told him that he was a prude and then flew off angrily) and thunder cracked (Terrible jokes, which got on everyone's nerves).

"Oh look!" said Skarloey. "Scratch IN SPACE is on. All in favour of changing the channel?"

"AYE." said the other engines, moodily.

"I mean, I get what they were trying to do." said Rusty, ever the defender of the bad movie. "I mean really, when you've faced down a massive elderich abomination, where else can you go but space?"

"It sucked though."

"Oh yes I'm not denying-"

At which point, the power went out.

"Ruddy hell, this storm is a nightmare!"

"Yeah, I'm beginning to think that Peter Sam is a curse."

"DUNCAN!" snapped the three engines.

"I FAILED THE REFRESHMENT LADY!"

"And the 'No One Cares' award goes to." muttered Rheneas.

...

The next day, the Fat Controller arrived with grave tidings. "There's no enough budget for a pool table, I'm sorry guys!"

"DAMN IT!"

"Oh, and ton of storm damage, yeah, I know, what are the odds of that? Peter Sam, go help Rusty clear up the damage, I dont' have anything better for you guys to do. God, twenty six episodes has never felt like such a drag!"

"Yes sir!" And off he hurried.

Any minute now, he'll start.

Any minute.

Hmm.

He's still in shot.

Annnnnnny moment now.

Hmmmmmmmmmmm.

Okay, should I just...I'm going to get out my copy of War and Peace, if that's all right? I get the sense that I'm going to finish and have time to spare before he exits the shot.

Anyway, after three years had passed, Peter Sam arrived to join Rusty in shithole central. The storm had swept a shed onto the line. After three whole minutes convinced that the shed was just Toby on the piss, Mr Hughes the repairman finally put two and two together and had sent for the breakdown train. IN MINI FORM.

"Driver says this shed is useless now! And then he went off on a rant about something or other and then passed out. So you know. Normal day." shrugged Rusty.

"It's not a shed! It's an old railway coach!"

Now, bear in mind the episodes we have had with Peter Sam. Peter 'I'm Going to Sniff Glue Because Maybe If I Do I'll Get to See the Pixies' Sam. Peter 'Ooooh, is that an electrical socket? I think I'll stick my funnel in it' Sam.

So how bad a situation must we be in where HE is the voice of reason?

To their credit, Rusty realized that they had been drinking too much and spent most of the next few minutes trying to desperately offer reassurance to themselves that they were not being infected by the stupid. Peter Sam had an idea in the interim.

...

"So what's this shit?"

"It's a tea room!"

The Fat Controller looked at the crew, and then at Peter Sam. "No it is not. It is a shit coach. It's even shitter than the Old Slow Coach that's buggered off to Babados, and that says a lot. ...Ah, what the hell, episode's almost over. I'll have Jem take a look at it."

Peter Sam was so happy that his eyes spun. Right out of his sockets.

Everyone was very sick.

Jem got to work. In no time at all (Literally three seconds) it was a tea room on wheels and looked like a piece of gaudy trash best left in the seventies. The perfect encapsulation of the Island of Sodor culinary standard.

"OH IT LOOKS...LOVELY." The Refreshment Lady was being paid to say this with a smile on her face by several members of the Railway Board. "I...I told you it would be a...a piece of cake. Yay..."

"HOW MANY CAKES!?" shouted Hatt, before controlling himself. "Lots, I'm sure. Now, Peter Sam! Right, basically, you're pulling the tea shop special from now on because, what we really need right now, is for more engines to do more menial tasks they don't really need to do."

"I'd be honoured to!" said Peter Sam. And now the Refreshment Lady serves everywhere, at the woodland way, the castle causeway and the whispering waterfall. And Peter Sam is a happy engine, primarily because he gets to look to the camera and say "I told you it would be a piece of cake!"

And the crowd laughs.

Unfortunately, shortly after seeing this, Peter Sam saw a squirrel, leaped off the tracks and ended up sending the Refreshment Lady to the hospital.

A happy ending for all!

...

 _THE PAST._

 _That night, it was a cold and bitter wind that blew across the sea. Captain Zero stood, for the first time in a long while, at the head of a fleet of small ships, and exhaled. He watched as his breath was whipped away by the wind, and quietly smiled to himself._

 _"Cap'n!" called Reginald. "Not sure what you're planning, but how are we going to get past the Coast Guard?"_

 _Yes, already the Coast Guard was heading out towards them. Zero would have preferred his messenger, but ah well, his plan would work regardless of whom it was who approached. "A wee bit of the old tact, mate. Now, when I give the word-"_

 _"AHOY!" called the Coast Guard. The boat drew level with Zero's boat, and eyed it critically. "You there! A report, if you please! If you have a reason for being here, I would like to know it. It would be most helpful if you could actually back that up with some sort of documentation as well."_

 _"I've got documentation, sir!" said Zero, not caring a bit about his accent. He leaned over the side of the boat and enjoyed the brief look of dumbstruck shock on the Coast Guard's face. "Now lads!"_

 _The years had not been kind to the Coast Guard. When last he had seen him, Zero could recall the boat being able to outrun almost anyone. And yet now, he seemed sluggish, pained, and as the sailors took control, it was all he could do to feebly shake._

 _"Pity." said Zero. "Still, yer not really on my radar as far as revenge goes. I'll make this quick."_

 _"You won't bloody get what you-"_

 _The loud crack of the gun was thankfully drowned out by the sea itself. The Coast Guard shuddered, and then fell silent._

 _"...Is he still operable?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"...Right. Now if the records are correct, there's a sort of entrance code that I have to handle. So. Once I've taken care of that, ye'll need to take each of the boats to the spots marked on the location. Get it done as fast as ye can, then meet back on the edge of the bay. I'll handle the rest."_

 _"How will you be getting-"_

 _"One step at a time, Reginald! ...Good luck. Don't screw this up!"_

 _..._

 _It was child's play, once he had worked out the system, to get the fleet into the general area of the port. He alone sent the Coast Guard's corpse scurrying through the labyrinth of waterways, until at last, he reached the main place of contact._

 _He started for a moment, as he recognised one of his more familiar haunts. The Bridge Cafe had clearly been one of the first casualties of the war, as a sign that forlornly read 'CLOSED UNTIL...' lay atop the rubble where once it had stood and pumped out it's intoxicating music._

 _Nostalgia was quickly shaken aside, however, and replaced with determination. He pulled out a suitcase, inside which contained most of the explosives that had he had originally bought for the job. Looking to the left, and to the right, he quickly slipped forward into the main building._

 _The door was, to his surprise, open. As he stepped into the house, softly pulling out a large nightstick, he glanced around. The good Captain had clearly suffered during this war, given that most of his walls were covered in a thick layer of grime, and there were several pieces of furniture that had seen better days._

 _Zero paused, and then listened._

 _Nothing. No snoring. No breathing. Not even the wireless was on._

 _For a moment, he panicked. Was this the right house? Could he have missed some piece of news about Starr?_

 _No, he reasoned. It just had to be that they had..._

 _The floorboard creaked. Zero went ramrod still, then quietly, he looked up to the landing. The thought about heading up was dashed as suddenly, whoever it was sped downstairs._

 _Zero grabbed the gun, but was a second later than he should have been, as he felt the audible slap and agony of a bullet slamming directly into his leg. Screaming, he opened fire, the unfortunate man was struck down instantly._

 _Forcing himself back out of the house, Zero limped towards the boat. In amongst the agony and rage of everything, he pressed a handkerchief down on the wound and tried furiously to wait for the signal._

 _As he did so, he thought for a moment about why the hell Starr wasn't in there. One thought came to mind. Evacuation. He had known stories about men in stately homes being forced out of there to live somewhere else so that the war effort could be done in private. What was it now? A hospital? A research lab? He didn't care. He just felt very, very robbed._

 _But the man...he had clearly been expecting Zero. But why? Now that was an interesting question._

 _And then a rather nasty thought came to mind. He stood up, limped towards the controls and gripped hold of them. He waited, and waited._

 _Suddenly, the first explosion went up, as Lucky's Yard burned shining orange for a second. The sound of sirens immediately kicked in, and he watched as the Fire Chief lead the charge, as various ARP boats flooded in the general direction of the explosion. Quickly, Zero began to wire a second suitcase up to the remains of the corpse._

 _"OI!"_

 _The Fire Chief! Zero lit up a match, put it on the fuse and swung himself over once more. Holding the original suitcase above him, he floated on through as the Fire Chief rounded the bend and was promptly cooked alive by the bomb._

 _By this point, both city and port were getting bombarded by explosives. As Zero swam for his life, he saw various people, ships and everything in between rushing for their very lives. Many of them rushed for the nearest cruise liner, that being S.S Vienna, while some braver people tried to fight the fire._

 _At last, he staggered up onto the scorched dock. When the naval tramper Krakatoa had exploded in such fantastic style, it had wiped out a good portion of the dockside. The war clearly hadn't helped matters, it was still looking as bad as ever. Rushing past, Zero could see sparks and flames leaping up all around him. Still though, he was a little far out from where he wanted to be._

 _And then he saw the little steam engine known as Puffa furiously chugging away. And he had an idea._

 _..._

 _Elsewhere, though Zero would only learn about this much later, the Star Tugs were panicking. Their part of the dock had been one of the first to fall, and now with the Fire Chief and the Coast Guard out of action, they were the last line of evacuation._

 _"WHAT DO WE DO!?" screamed a terrified Top Hat._

 _"Dinnae shout! Yer making things a whole fucking lot worse!" snarled Big Mac, for the first time in what felt like forever feeling rattled. "Hercules, OJ! Now might be a good time!"_

 _"The Vienna!" gasped Ten Cents. The cruise liner was struggling, despite the best efforts of the operators to get it started. "It'll get trapped in the harbour-"_

 _"Not on my watch!" Hercules glanced out at the sea. "Lillie's there, she should be able to act as a light for the ship to follow!"_

 _"But it'sch blackout!" lisped Sunshine._

 _"Then get over there and deal with her, boyo!" OJ snapped. "Hercules, you know Vienna better than us, you can handle it!"_

 _"Agreed! Grampus!"_

 _A series of bubbles arose from the surface and the submarine surfaced, spitting out water and perhaps just the tiniest bit of fuel. "Yes sir!"_

 _"There are still people trapped here, heading for the Rubbish dump! If you can get there, let them on-board! Take as many as you can, then make for the nearest harbour! Warrior, you better go too! Lord Stinker may be smelly, but he's a barge that can fit people on!"_

 _"RIGHT-HO!" said the dim-witted tug. He shared a quick glance at Top Hat before chugging off after the sub._

 _"And the rest of us?!" asked Ten Cents._

 _"Ten Cents, get to Sally's! She may be a seaplane, but she's the best chance of seeing whether or not she can get help! Big Mac, if there are any tugs remaining, order them to meet here and start coordinating evacuations. OJ! The Z-Stacks may be utter bastards, but they deserve to get out of this just as much as we do!"_

 _"And me!?"_

 _"Top Hat, just get the fuck out of our way!" Hercules stormed off towards the cruise liner, and everyone else scattered as well._

 _..._

 _Minutes later, and Hercules anxiously awaited the sign from Lillie. Vienna was listing rather badly, and no matter how hard he tried, Hercules couldn't find a way to attach a rope of any sort to the liner._

 _"Come on! Come on!"_

 _He heard a distinctive horn, and saw the shadow of Warrior, pulling a series of barges from the dockside. He couldn't see, but he could hear the sound of people screaming and chanting in unison. "That's right." he murmured as he put his starboard side against the ship. "Keep going."_

 _There were screams here, too. And not just from the ship. Several of the cranes were trapped here, unable to leave. Not for the first time, Hercules wondered if that had been what Big Mickey had felt when he had thrown himself into the water all those years ago. God, had they ever been so young as they had been back then?_

 _Reality slapped him back in the face, as in the distance, he could see Lillie's light flashing on. Clearly, Sunshine had got to her in time._

 _"All right, Vienna!" he said with a forced sense of cheeriness that he really didn't feel. "Let's start off, shall we? First one to cross the threshold gets all the marbles!" He took a deep breath. He just had to shove her out so far, to get her grounds, and then hopefully-_

 _A sudden explosion rocked the crane directly behind him. With a scream, it fell into the water. No time to think then._

 _Slowly but surely, Hercules began to guide Vienna out. It was hard work, especially with all the shouting and crying and all the rest of it. He hoped Big Mac would hurry back with another lot of tugs, but right now, his much larger hope was that Vienna didn't accidentally crush him beyond recognition._

 _They were halfway out when Sally Seaplane passed overhead. Ten Cents must also have gotten out, thought Hercules with a massive amount of relief. "Come on!" He hissed, and then felt a jerk. He looked up and realised in horror that Vienna was going over. Right above him._

 _"Oh! No you don't!" hissed a voice._

 _Top Hat had been standing around the harbour looking on in a mixture of horror and confusion, as explosion after explosion rocked his home. Now, rushing forward, he had found an area where a cable could be attached. He did so, quickly tugging forward, any idea of superiority going out of the window._

 _Together, the two tugs chugged on forward, battling furiously. For a moment, Hercules thought they might, just might, make it._

 _He was wrong._

 _They were almost out when Vienna listed in the opposite direction. Top Hat swore violently and tried to push against the side, but to no avail. To both he and Hercules's horror, they were right next to the last part of the docks._

 _There was no time to react. Top Hat screamed as Vienna crashed into him, and then shrieked even louder and even longer as between dock and boat, he came apart like an egg underneath a frying pan._

 _The scream echoed even after this bloody scene. But Hercules couldn't even begin to take this in. The dock had managed to somehow stabilise Vienna for the time being, and now under it's own steam, it stormed out of the dock. At the very least, Big Mac would hopefully be able to take care of it._

 _Hercules's eyes were filled with tears, though whether or not that was because of Top Hat, the situation in general, the sweat, the heat, the water splashing in his face or a combination of it all he didn't know. He gasped out a few words towards the retreating ship._

 _"You're clear Vienna! God spe-"_

 _In retrospect, he really should have moved clear of the docks himself. The next explosion was right underneath the large skeletal remains of an old crane. With a terrifying creak and an agonising crack, the crane toppled backwards._

 _Hercules had just enough time to think of one word ('Lillie') before it came down on top of him like a ton of bricks._

 _The crunch sound was pretty much silent in all the chaos. But if anyone could have heard it, it would have been the loudest sound in the entire harbor._

 _..._

"...How do you know about the parts that you weren't there for, lubber?"

"Oh, I don't. It's just more dramatic that way." Zero coughed. "Now, where was I?"

...

 _Zero jumped off Puffa and watched as the train valiantly attempted to chug onwards. But as he watched, the bridge he was on collapsed downwards. And this time, there was no lucky break for the poor engine, as he hit the water hard._

 _Zero grinned. He was here. Back at his old Z-Stacks locale._

 _And there was just the tug he wanted._

 _Zak was so drunk, both off whiskey and his own sense of power, that he failed to notice anything was amiss. That and he was very stupid, even now._

 _OJ arrived, paddling water furiously. "LADS!" He roared. "MOVE IT! THE ENTIRE CITY'S BEEN LIT UP LIKE CARDIFF ON A CHRISTMAS BINGE!"_

 _"Don't have to tell me twice, paddler!" And without another word, Zorran headed off, leaving Zak to quietly snicker._

 _"Didn't you hear me!?"_

 _"You're full of it, OJ!" Zak sneered. "This is my patch!" Zero began to creep forward. "I own it!" He stood up. "No one can stop me or move me!" He pitched his arm back. "So shift it, you old fu-"_

 _And then Zero lit the fuse, and threw the case._

 _It bounced off the side of Zak's smokestack and landed square in the middle of the deck. Zak turned around and his eyes were filled with horror. "CAP'N?! You're dead!"_

 _"Ye took the words right out of me mouth, Zak."_

 _In retrospect, Zero should not have been so close to Zak when he said this. Because when Zak did explode, and explode he did, the blast caught him and shot him backwards._

 _Right into the water._

 _He sank. Down down down. So stunned was he that he didn't even think to begin struggling until it was too late._

 _And then everything went very dark._

 _..._

 _For about three minutes, that is._

 _Zero was on dry land. Or at least, dryish land. He sat up, and suddenly felt remarkably dry for someone that had just been engulfed in the sea a moment ago. He hesitated, then turned around._

 _He was on OJ. That much was clear. The paint was the same, the make was the same, everything was the same._

 _Oh, save for the fact that OJ no longer had a face._

 _Zero didn't freak out at that._

 _Nor did he freak out as he turned around and realised that he was caught in the gaze of two pairs of large, green, terrifying eyes, like lighthouse lights turned on him._

 _But when the voice spoke to him, well...he did in fact, begin to freak out._

 _ **"THIS IS THE VOICE OF THE MYSTERONS. WE KNOW YOU CAN HEAR US, EARTH MAN."**_


	48. Episode 9: The Spotless Record

Wow, so most of you didn't freak out over the Mysterons arriving! That's good! My thinking is this. We've already done a lot of shit on Earth. Why not take it to the next level and make the next threat something intergalactic. I don't have a movie to build off on any more (No, I know what you're going to say, but the DTV's are feature length specials, not quite movie length), so I have to get creative to get the same feel of it. Prepare for a shitton of references to Gerry Anderson shows in the story section. Namely to Terrahawks, another show that we might reference at some point. Also referenced are John Carter of Mars and War of the Worlds, which I threw in because NERD. ...Oh, and the entire story of the Mysterons is based pretty much on the actual story from the show, with my own beginning and end tacked on. Hope you enjoy!

 **AaronCottrell97:** That it does.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : IT IS THE FINEST HERB EVER. ...Also cocaine.

 **Bronze Shield:** University is a real pain in the arse as it turns out. :/

 **Game-Watch:** Eh, fair enough. Also, yeah, the Mysterons. Basically, prepare for me to get my geek on again!

 **MattPrice01:** THAT MEANS A LOT. I hope you enjoy what I'm leading with here!

 **JD145:** Well you'll see in this chapter what happened to OJ. I'll go into more detail in a future chapter, but yeah, that still holds up. Glad you enjoyed it!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Quite so! The stupid WILL NEVER STOP.

 **Australian Guest:** It IS a dad joke!

 **Trainmaniac:** Captain Scarlet, but close enough!

 **bigyihsuan:** I'm...going to take that in a good way? XD.

 **UGX7:** Thanks for the reminder, I edited it after you had pointed it out. Yes, another few bite the dust.

 **GreatWestern1522** : One day, perhaps.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

A brand new tank engine was racing across the Island of Sodor. He was followed closely by a large truckload of paparazzi. He was very happy to get started, and he didn't want to be late. As he drew into the station, he passed Duck, who seemed to recognize him.

"RAGHT ON TIME." said the Fat Controller, having a stroke. Or something, I'm not sure, his accent appears to be growing thicker with every passing moment. Thomas and Percy stared admiringly at the big tank engine. He looked smart. Then again, so did Gordon. And then he had to open his mouth and ruin things. "THISCH IS ARTHUR! He is here to shunt trucks, pull freight and sell merchandise!"

"Nice-to-meet-you." puffed Arthur, reading off the cue cards. "It is an honour to be in your...presents? ...Oh for goodness sake- Sally! There's a typo! I wouldn't make such a fuss about it normally, but you know, the cameras are rolling."

"Ah don't worry!" Thomas was puffed up like a balloon on so much pride. "I know it can be a little intimidating for a newbie to come to such a popular show as ours but-"

"Hmm? Oh, no no no, I'm sorry, you misunderstand. It's my show that's under threat!" Arthur glanced to his own camera crew, who waved. "Arsin it with Arthur! Yeah, we're trying to see if we can't get your old slot."

The balloon was promptly popped and replaced with a lot of rage. "THE HELL!?" Thomas was filled with anger. "HATTY HE CAN'T DO THAT, CAN HE!?"

"He can, actually. He's basically paid a lot of money to do this, so shush. He's also got a spotless record, and I don't see any of you arses with that thing! Also, don't call me Hatty!"

"What is a spotless record?!" asked Percy, who hadn't taken his medication and was feeling a bit dim.

"It means-" growled Thomas through teeth that were so tightly locked together they might just shatter from sheer speech alone "-that he's never been naughty, made a mess or been anything other than a perfect perfection machine of pure perfect! EVERYONE LIKES HIM!"

"True." said Arthur, modestly.

Thomas hated Arthur. With a passion.

...

"So this new fellow. Who is he?"

Duck let out a long, drawn out sigh. "Arthur is, for lack of a better term, a minor celebrity back on the mainland. And bear in mind, I am using 'celebrity' with all the sarcasm I can muster."

"I've never heard of him."

"You wouldn't have. He's...how can I put this? You know how you have some people who make a living out of doing trailers for films? Or maybe being announcers for things? Arthur is essentially that, just in engine form. He did a few pieces of work for the Iron Circle, mostly recruitment videos and the like."

"So we really shouldn't feel bad about not recognising him at all?"

"No!" Duck laughed at Toby and Edward's sighs of relief. "Now, I've got to drop off some flour trucks to the market for some unknown reason. Probably trying that ridiculous idea to make the world's biggest cake again."

"AGAIN!?" Edward and Toby said in unison.

"They've been trying since before the war started!" sniffed Edward.

"Well, they're trying again." Duck groaned as he started off. "Still, at least I'll get some sort of peace and quiet there."

"EDDDDDDWAAAAAAARD!"

"Peace and quiet." muttered Edward. "I wonder what that's like." He put on his best smile for Thomas. "Morning, lad. What's the-"

"ARTHUR."

"...Yes?"

"When can we firebomb his shed?"

"...Never?"

"BUT WHYYYYYYY?"

"Because it's immoral, illegal-"

"MOST OF THE BEST THINGS ARE!"

It took Edward a moment to regain his equilibrium. True, Thomas had come a long way since the early days, but in some cases, he could slip back into the old habits of being a very whiny and boring child in an engine's body. "This is about that bloody show isn't it?"

"NO. HE IS A MENACE AND HE MUST BE STOPPED!"

"Thomas, just suck it up and deal with it. He'll be here for...maybe three days? At the most? And then he'll be gone."

"EDWARD NO."

"EDWARD YES!"

...

The three engines soon got to work. Thomas and Percy were bumping trucks like nobody's business. True, this was pissing them off and there would most likely be hell to pay later, but they had to work out their aggression somehow.

"Join in, Arthur!" Thomas said, primarily so that he could see just how weak Arthur was. Or so he told himself.

"Ah...no thanks. I have to think about the truck demographic after all."

"The what?"

"Trucks watch my programs! Apparently seeing the 'brotherhood' take it to all the other railways across the world gives them hope that one day the oppressive regime of engine-kind will be removed and they can bump into things willy nilly."

"...What kind of show is it again?" Thomas asked, suspiciously. He was now fully convinced that Arthur was one of those dirty truck-lovers. Engines who, GASP, didn't hate trucks with a burning passion.

"Oh, it's a travelogue. Sort of showing how railways are run, what they do, how they act...thinking that this one might make for a good...middle episode. You know, the semi-famous Island of Sodor and it's cast."

Thomas looked at Arthur. Then at the trucks. Then at Arthur again. Internally, he was screaming out "SEMI FAMOUS!? HAS YOUR SHOW EVEN BEEN NOMINATED FOR A BAFTA?! NO, DIDN'T THINK SO, YOU TWIT." But externally, he was merely grinning cheerfully.

That should have been Arthur's first warning.

"Hey, Arthur." said Thomas, with the calmest of calm voices. "There is a train full of fruit over there destined for yon market. You'll get to see plenty of the Island then. Why not take it?"

"Oh! Ta!"

"ROOT ROOT TOW! WE WANT TO GO! THE FRUIT'S GOING OFF CAUSE YOU'RE TOO SLOW!"

"How RUDE!" said Arthur, who was scandalised.

"That's actually one of their more original songs." murmured Thomas. He paused, and then getting his second idea of the day, idled up to him with the single most devious smile ever recorded on the Island. "The Fat Controller doesn't like trucks singing! He hates it! Says it reminds him of his ex-wife after eating too many vegetables! So, to get the full Sudrian experience, you must stop them!" He barely managed to stop himself from bursting into a full series of giggles.

Arthur shot him a grateful glance. "Thanks! So I will!"

"Aheh. Hehehehehehehehe." Thomas giggled as Arthur headed off and began to shunt the trucks into line. "He's screwed!"

...

Arthur was puffing on by the windmill with a cheerful little song in his head, and the cameras tuned directly onto him. He had the feeling that he was going to have a grand old time.

He was wrong. So very wrong.

He was about halfway along when the trucks began to sing. "CHUG CHUG CUFF, YOU CHUG AND HUFF! YOU'RE SO RUSTY YOU CAN'T EVEN PUFF!"

"My word that is terrible. And shut up! Trucks should do as they are told-Oh shit, cut the feed, cut the feed!"

"Can't!" hissed the cameraman. "And besides, they're trucks. They don't mind."

This angered the trucks. They couldn't sing? Fine. A lesson would just have to be taught! "We'll show him! He can't push us around!"

"I am literally right behind you pushing."

"SHUT UP DAD." said the trucks.

He struggled over bridges and huffed and puffed through tunnels. It was as he mounted Gordon's Hill that the trucks put their plan into action. "YOU CAN'T CATCH US!"

"Why would I? We're literally attached! OH GOD."

And off they shot. But there was trouble ahead. Duck had stopped at a level crossing, watching as a lorry much like the ones that had caused so much trouble crossed over. Amazing what you can do with a bit of recycling, eh? But even as Arthur's driver tried to apply the brakes, it was already too late.

The Phantom Slide Whistler did not, it must be noted, cover up the large amount of curse words that came from either Arthur or Duck's mouths as the trucks somehow imploded and sent fruit over everything. Including a very baffled signalman.

"NOT SO FUNNY NOW, IS IT?!" hissed James as he passed. Duck would have gladly given him the middle finger, but he had none.

Arthur was upset. His spotless record was ruined. And also, the fruit stank. The townspeople, it appeared, would also no longer be getting the biggest cake ever made this year.

...

It was taking Edward all of his strength to not slam Thomas into the wall. "WHAT DID YOU DO."

"Wh-What do you-"

"WHAT. DID. YOU. DO."

"...You can't be mad at me."

"Tell me, and I'll think about it."

Thomas told him. Edward was mad. And that was why Thomas rushed over to escape from that. Unfortunately he ended up staring at the two messy engines. "PEEP PEEP! What a ruddy mess!"

"I hate my life." Duck half-sobbed. The Fat Controller was very annoyed. And also apparently had only just woken up.

"Was going on here?!" He asked. And no, that's not a typo. That's what he said.

"Trucks. Singing. Told them to stop. Your wife makes weird noises. Went too fast."

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh dear." said Duck, becoming steadily aware that Arthur was digging himself a hole the size of New Mexico for his grave.

"It was all my fault." sighed Thomas, aware that everything was going to come out. He told it quickly, so that he could get the punishment over with quick.

"Arthur it's, ehehehehehehehehe, fruitless for me to say anything. ...I said fruitless. ...I said fruitless. FRUITLESS!"

"We get it, sir." said Duck.

"But you weren't laughing."

"No we weren't."

"...Whatever. Thomas, clear up the mess!" And as Fatty left, Harvey arrived, having been warned before hand by Toby to hurry up. And thus, the tidying up began, they were lucky enough to get Butch's help, and unlucky enough to catch Tom Tipper lying with his van for some reason. You fill in the blanks.

Thomas took the loaded trucks away, and both Duck and Arthur went off to have a wash and a long think about their futures.

Later, Arthur was having the squashed fruit removed when Thomas pulled up. Henry was still staring up at the sky, wondering why it was that the clouds were trying to fight him. He would show them!

Thomas sighed. He had had Edward draft an apology for him. "I am...sorry that I played a trick on you. That was wrong of me. Very wrong. So wrong. I am in fact, a big dumb blue boy, who really needs to get a grip, and also loves to make smart people look dumb. I am so stupid." He thought Edward had gone slightly overboard on the latter half.

"Thanks for owning up." muttered Arthur, who was already beginning to let go of the grudge.

"Maybe spotless records are made to be broken."

"And then repaired. Just like friendships."

"...That sounds like shite."

"Yeah, it does. Still, I'll have plenty of times to practice."

Thomas's smile froze. "Huh?"

"Oh, my show got cancelled. But so I don't sue, Sir Topham Hatt has put me on the railway full time! You're going to be hearing a lot more from me! We're going to be besties!"

Thomas felt like screaming.

...

It took Zero quite a while to stop screaming and frantically trying to get away from the mysterious voice. Eventually, his hysteria was solved by a rather unorthodox method.

"DID YE JUST SLAP ME?!" Zero's mouth hung open. Then a thought appeared in his head, and he ran with it. "How did you slap me?" He suddenly froze as two sickly rings passed over his face. The only presence thus far of these...things.

 _ **"WE ARE THE MYSTERONS."**_

Silence then. Zero paused, cleared his throat and cautiously asked. "And that's supposed to impress me?"

 ** _"...ARE YOU SURE THIS IS THE RIGHT ONE?"_**

The two green eyed tugs nodded, or did the closest thing they could at any rate. Zero got the impression that the Mysteron, whatever the hell that was, was sighing to itself.

 _ **"WE ARE BEINGS OF PURE ENERGY. IF WE WISH TO ASSAULT YOU, WE WILL. YOU ARE THE ONE KNOWN AS CAPTAIN ZERO."**_

"...I am. Who's side are you on?"

 _ **"OUR OWN."**_

That was fair to Zero. He didn't necessarily think as himself as being on any side either. Just the one that wasn't marching across Europe looking ridiculous and holding some notion of racial purity. "So, what...what do you want with me? ...Actually, first question, I am not feeling any pain."

 _ **"NO."**_

"I was shot."

 _ **"YOU WERE."**_

"And also blown up."

 _ **"YOU WERE DEAD AN HOUR AGO. YOU WERE DROWNING AND BLEEDING OUT AT THE SAME TIME. YOU WOULD HAVE STAYED DEAD IF NOT FOR US."**_

"...I...I have questions."

 _ **"AS TO BE EXPECTED FROM A LESSER LIFEFORM. NONETHELESS, WE SHALL GRANT YOU OUR STORY."**_

"...Can I just get the basics-?"

 _ **"NO."**_

"Ah. Continue."

And so the Mysterons told their tale, though for sake of argument and to save time, we shall tell you it in a somewhat more truncated form.

They were one of many indigenous lifeforms created on a planet that the humans referred to by Mars. There were many other types, some matched the ideas of Martians held by H.G. Wells and Edgar Rice Burroughs, and still others had forms that were too wonderful or horrific to describe. Nonetheless, the Mysterons had managed through primarily their intense mental being to take control of the planet and establish themselves as the dominant life-form.

There had been some minor hiccups, of course. A base set up in the year 2020 had come very close to wiping out the whole planet due to a war started by a collection of non-human beings, but for the most part they kept themselves to themselves. The Mysterons had become even more powerful in the time since they had been placed in charge and the events that changed their future forever. Soon they had merged into a collective, with their mental powers being so great that they were able to use an ability called retrometabolism. Essentially, the power to recreate or alter matter to their whims. Healing, reconstructing, creating entirely, it was of no issue to them.

This sounded like bullshit to Captain Zero, but he was a simple man.

But one day, in the Earth year 2068, things escalated. A survey mission on-board a ship known as Zero-X mistook two large towers that the Mysterons had created as the batteries of some great weapon and blew up their city. Seconds later, after reconstructing said city, the Mysterons went on a rant about how unenlightened the humans were, and then declared war on the entire planet for the actions of three men.

Zero was pretty sure that that was the textbook example of overreacting, but he was a simple man.

And thus began the War of Nerves between the Mysterons and the organisation SPECTRUM. In total, the entire war lasted three years, mostly being conducted through acts of subterfuge on behalf of the Mysterons through the work of the ill-fated Captain Black, launcher of missiles, who had been killed and then reconstructed as their loyal servant. Unfortunately, they accidentally created their greatest challenge, in the form of a similarly turned man who was code-named Captain Scarlet.

Zero was not entirely sure how it was that Captain Scarlet had broken free of his conditioning (He suspected the Mysterons didn't either, glossing over it with a simple explanation about falling very, very far down, which even the Green Eyed Tugs looked a little doubtful about). Nor was he sure how it came to pass that the Mysterons who supposedly could recreate a lot in mere seconds had no ability to just telekinetically snap Scarlet's neck.

He was a simple man, but he had his limits. He then realised that raising his point might give the Mysterons ideas regarding himself, and so shut up.

The war ended for two reasons. The first was a matter of dissecting Scarlet, which he reluctantly agreed to, and creating a whole group of soldiers who were willing to stop the Mysterons with their own abilities from the results. The second was one that the Mysterons really should have seen coming. The other Martians grew very tired with their planet and culture being dragged through the muck, not to mention the steady belief that the higher ups considered all of them disposable as well.

Between both the civil war and the war of nerves, the entire Mysteron race was cut down by 95%. The five percent left alive were forced out of their glorious city, and summoning the last of their powers, attempted a way to avert the catastrophe entirely by travelling back in time.

They overshot. Drastically.

Arriving in the midst of the First World War, driven by misanthropic rage and the discovery that a remaining two percent had lost their lives in powering the experiment, the Mysterons had to take refuge. Their powers were still great, though not great enough to lay waste to the planet. They had taken over the bodies of two pirates. and their continued existence inside them had steadily removed any trace of self said pirates had.

 ** _"AND NOW-"_** they intoned _**"-WE HAVE YOU. YOU WHO THWARTED OUR PLANS ONCE BEFORE, EVEN IF BY PROXY. YOU WOULD, IF WE WERE IN MORE OF A STATE TO DO SO, WIPE YOU OUT. BUT YOU HAVE THINGS WE REQUIRE. BODIES. THERE ARE COUNTLESS OF US IN THESE TWO ALONE. WE CAN NO LONGER SUSTAIN THE FORMS."**_

"...Then take OJ. You've clearly done something to him."

 _ **"HE WAS UNNECESSARY. WE HAVE TRANSMUTED HIS ORGANS, HIS EYES, HIS EARS, HIS MOUTH, HE IS NOW TRAPPED INSIDE HIS OWN MIND. IT WILL BE MUCH EASIER FOR US TO TAKE OVER THAT WAY."**_

"Oh. Nasty." Zero thought for a minute. "And that's it? Ye need me to provide more of yon vessels?"

 ** _"...THERE IS ANOTHER MATTER. THERE IS ANOTHER HERE. ONE WHO'S ASSISTANCE WE WOULD GREATLY APPRECIATE."_**

"Does he have a name?"

 _ **"NAME. NOT IN THE MANNER YOU MEAN. A TITLE. A TITLE THAT IS RESPONSIBLE FOR EVERYTHING WE HAVE DONE. THE MALIGNANCE. IT IS A CRUEL TITLE FOR SUCH A GREAT BEING, BUT IT IS ONE HE HAS RECLAIMED."**_

"...Where can I find him? Wait, why would I?"

 _ **"THE MAN WHO SHOT YOU. THE TUG WHO SENT HIM. THE PEOPLE THAT WARNED HIM. YOU HAVE WORKED OUT WHO IS AT THE TOP OF THIS CHAIN."**_

"The Other Railway." growled Zero.

 _ **"DO YOU NOT WANT REVENGE? IT SHALL BE GRANTED TO YOU. AND ONCE YOU FIND THE MALIGNANCE, ON THE ISLAND OF SODOR, YOU WILL DISCOVER POWER LIKE YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN BEFORE."**_

"Sounds like a crock."

 _ **"PERHAPS IT IS. BUT WILL YOU DENY IT?"**_

Zero sat on the paddleboat, and thought for a long time.

...

He walked back into his office three hours later, terrifying three out of four of the people he had met on that fateful day.

The Clown, of course, merely smiled. If anything, his smile was brighter.

"So-" said Captain Zero, as if they hadn't attempted to send him to his death "-about that job offer..."


	49. Episode 10: Toby's Windmill

Well! It has been a while, hasn't it? I have been doing university work and also trying to get this story to work, because Toby's Windmill is a pretty bland one, really not the best story for Toby to have. It's a pity that it's his last big role in the Classic Series, but it's certainly not as bad as what's to come. Also. if you haven't read it, I delivered a Christmas gift on Tales from the Abridgement, so go check that out! With that in mind, REVIEWS!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Agreed, definitely fun to write and watch!

 **Reality Rejection Service** : "IT REALLY SUCKS." Thomas the Tank Engine, Some Point, 2003.

 **Bronze Shield:** Especially around this era, yeah!

 **Game-Watch:** I mean, it's a bit of an overreaction though. We accidentally destroy one of your cities that you can repair with a little exertion of your mind, and in return you destroy the entire world which we can't rebuild on purpose.

 **MattPrice01:** Trust me, rediscovering Captain Scarlet's been a blast! Definitely a lot of fun to write the Mysterons in, and while we won't be seeing much of them just yet, they do have a role to play! Thunderbirds is definitely getting a nod, as is Terrahawks at some point!

 **JD145:** Unfortunately not! She's not that musically or linguistically gifted here.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Thomas being a whiny bastard is fun to write! Ah, but regarding the Fat Director...well, the plot is going to thicken soon enough. This chapter especially might be an interesting read for you.

 **Guest:** Nope, I'm not that smart or clever, and I won't be tackling that at all.

 **UGX7:** Okay, so that's fair, but this does put me in an awkward bind of having to deal with your problems while also not spoiling the story. So to answer what I can, the Mysterons were introduced because I wanted the story to feel big, but they won't be taking up any more space than they absolutely necessarily have to. They have a purpose to this story, just as of yet, I can't reveal what it is. They have a connection to the Malignance, BUT it's also more complicated than they make it sound. I can't talk about what that is as of yet. And yeah, Zak was tipped off that Zero was returning, because the Other Railway had no real desire to keep the Captain around. Two birds with one stone, as it was.

 **Shin-Dan Kuruto: Yep.**

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

There are many beautiful places on the Island of Sodor.

Good thing none of them are going to be focused on today! Am I right, ladies and gentlemen? ...No, but seriously, am I?

"Focus, chaps!" called Harold the smugass helicopter as he flew over some lovely stock footage. The engines love the pretty watermill (At least when they aren't getting splashed by the water and/or getting dunked into the nearby pond) the beautiful canal (Or canals, really you see one, you see them all, as you can tell by this OTHER lovely bit of stock footage) and the castle on the Loch.

Which didn't exist five minutes ago, but you know what, it's a weird bloody Island, okay.

Toby's favourite place, for the purposes of the episode today for some reason, is the old windmill. Why no, this isn't the same windmill as the one in the title sequence. Or any other windmill we've seen up until now. Nope, this is a completely new one!

Clearly Don Quioxte was onto something! These windmills must be stopped, no matter the cost! The windmill is worn, and cannot make much flour. Odd considering we haven't seen it before. And before any smartarses tell me that it's clearly the same windmill we've come to know and love, let me point out the different bloody colour! What, did the windmill fairies come and give it a spruce up? HA! We know better than that! What kind of madness is that? Now, back to our regularly scheduled screw up of a crossover with all British shit you don't know or care about! You know, the logical world.

Toby loves to watch the sails go around. It reminds him that death is coming for him, and that one day all shall be consigned to the dirt.

Also, it's pretty.

And Dusty Miller is Toby's friend. At least, Toby thinks he is. Jumping out of nowhere, saying "HELLO TOBY!" and holding a large scythe does make one question the relationships they have with each other.

One day, Toby was taking a load of flour to the market. At least that's what he was told he was doing. To be bluntly honest, he was wondering whether or not Hatt had a secret bun making facility underneath Knapford that was trying to put the mills out of business.

We'll also ignore the fact that according to the stock footage, the windmill is located on the bloody beach of all places.

He was so busy watching the sails and contemplating his mortality that basic sight failed him. There was a loud crack as he hit the trucks, shoved them forward and knocked through part of the wooden platform.

Though why a platform like that would be made from wood is anyone's guess. Also anyone's guess, why apparently the wood went up like a rocket the second that contact was made.

"Ah nuts." said Toby, who really didn't give that much of a damn. The miller, despite sounding perhaps a tad more annoyed, also didn't seem that phased.

"If I can't sell my flour, I'll have to shut the mill down...BAHAMAS HERE I COME!"

"Sorry." said Toby, who wasn't enjoying this episode that much. "...Oh, by the way, are you that guy from Camberwick Green?"

"No, that was my cousin. Twice removed."

"Ah. ...You, er, always have been millers? Seems a bit of a random name to give to someone who isn't."

"You would be surprised." Dusty sharpened his scythe and licked his lips at the fireman, who whimpered and hid beneath a large box.

"LET'S GO. STORM COMING." said the driver, who was equally as bored.

...

"SORRY EDWARD, THIS IS A BLOODY AWFUL CONNECTION I'VE GOT! STORM AND ALL!"

"I swear, Toby, why you don't just move back into the normal sheds like the rest of us-"

"GIVE ME MY OWN BLOODY SHED AND I WILL! BUT NOOOOOO HATTY SAYS SEVEN SHEDS IS WASTEFUL! ...WHAT ELSE DID YOU FIND OUT?!"

"Mind toning it down a little, Tobe?"

"TONE WHAT DOWN!? THE MILL IS SHUTTING AND IT'S ALL MY FAULT."

"...Okay, random, whatever. Okay, so, the Railway Board are essentially shoving all the sentient coaches off to the side, same goes for anything else aside from trucks and us. We got into contact with Boxhill earlier-"

"SPEAK UP! THE STORM IS LASHING MY HOUSE!"

"...APPARENTLY. The Duchess's death has lead to a nasty power struggle in the Iron Circle. The Old Guard are essentially trying to railroad, pun not intended, the government into giving them power!"

"HOLY SHIT THE WINDMILL JUST...well actually a really bad CGI effect happened, and then the sails just sort of fell off like a wilting flower petal. ...Mills don't usually do that, right?"

"FOCUS! Now, have I got your attention?"

"Yep!"

"Good. So now-"

And then the power cut out.

...

The next morning came and Toby trundled along his line. He was getting the weirdest sense of deja vu from this, like the last storm they had suffered. He had been wearing the exact same face, on the same line, with the same amount of storm damage...how odd. But he continued onwards past torn trees (Somewhere, Henry screamed in sorrow and scared the marrow out of Donald and Douglas) and ruined farm buildings (Somewhere else, Terrance continued to not give a shit) before finally he saw the most shocking sight of all.

"A SALE?! At Debenham's?! MY WORD!" He then looked up from his newspaper. "Oh and also the windmill's gone, oh dearie me, what a shocker."

"This means the end of my business. And my obsession with wearing smocks with weirdly placed stitches on them." said Dusty, sadly. Then he cheered up as he thought about going to the Bahamas with the insurance payout. "I can't afford the timber to make repairs!" He said, lying through his teeth. He could, he just didn't care enough to do so.

"There must be a way! ...But sod me, I'm not going to think of one." And off he trundled, wondering to himself if there was anything important that Edward had to tell him when they next met.

Then his driver saw a fallen tree on the line. At first mistaking it for Fatty having tripped and fell, he eventually put the brakes on. Terrance and Harvey were busy pointedly not looking at each other, and ignoring the inevitable failure of a conversation that they had had before hand.

The Fat Controller was cross. "This storm has caused confusion and delay!" He gazed up at the sky. "YOU HEAR ME, GODS?! I SHALL SEND YOU TO YOUR SHEDS IF YOU DON'T STOP THIS NONSENSE!"

A bolt of lightning struck Hatt dead on.

"Never mind." He said, and promptly fainted.

"Are you all right, sir?" said the bodyguard.

"Mrrrrr Norris, tear down this tree!" muttered the delusional fat man.

Toby had an idea. "Please sir, the windmill has been broken. As have the Island's funds, which cannot pay for it's repair! Can we use the tree to aid in it's reconstruction, and also to stop yet another prominent industry from going under? Five of those have already given up on us this week alone!"

"SPLENDID IDEA!" slurred Hatt, who then vomited up his lunch. It was quite sizeable. So Toby took the tree away while his boss proceeded to curl up into a ball and cry, to the miller.

"I can't make bread out of this!" He protested.

"I know."

Then the Miller saw "You want me to use this as a canoe! I've always wanted to go canoeing, thanks Toby-!" And then the tram engine told him what he could do with this tree. It was quite rude. Then he told them the actual purpose behind bringing the tree here. The Miller sighed, seeing another wet holiday on the Island take the place of all the gorgeous babes fawning over him. "We can rebuild the windmill...yay. Good as new...not. Let me just go get my scythe!"

The construction, for some reason, didn't involve the Pack, who were too busy getting drunk and lamenting the cancellation of their series. Instead, the rather weak teamup of Trevor and all three of the replacement steamrollers (George, Jorge and Jeo-Orge, who was from Switzerland) to do it.

Somehow they managed. How, I'm not sure, but they did. They also found a few things buried under the mill.

Coffin shaped things.

And soon, the windmill was back up and looked, really quite nice. It was a pity then that following this, Dusty threatened to shoot the camera crew if they even came anywhere near the mill.

"It's not so bad!" protested Hatt as he raised a shield between himself and the scythe. "TOBY HELP!"

"YOU RUINED MY LIFE. AGAIN!"

Dusty was later arrested for the many bodies found under his mill during the construction. He's currently writing a tell all book called 'Why I Would Have Gotten Away With It Too, if It Weren't For That Meddling Tram'.

Now the windmill makes more flour than ever, with Toby making twice as many deliveries. It's owned by people who aren't permanently insane. At least for the moment. He never tires of seeing the sails go round and round, and he's glad that they've called it Toby's Windmill.

He wishes that they'd stop pelting him with fruit every time he arrives there, though.

...

 _THE PAST._

 _Zero had his suspicions, of course. He wondered vaguely how much the three men who had hired him had told Zak beforehand. It was a good con, all things considered. Eliminate a potential source for Lady and get rid of a troublesome shit-stirrer at the same time. Clearly Starr had been moved beforehand, and replaced with the assassin intended to kill him_

 _And thus, his employment with the Other Railway began._

 _After they had attempted to shoot him, then drown him, then crush him and so on and so forth. Unfortunately, whatever the Mysterons had done to him, it meant that he was sticking around for a good long while._

 _He wasn't entirely sure whether he had managed to intimidate them into letting him join, or they had just given up out of sheer boredom._

 _..._

 _The day the war ended, there was pandemonium in the streets of every town, village and city on Sodor. Several people proposed on the spot. One of those people was a rather grumpy Scotsman, who ended up getting married to the daughter of one of the most prominent figures in construction around, Miss Packard._

 _He agreed, in a rather unusual move for men in this time period, to take her last name as his own. No one was quite sure HIS last name had been before hand, but it soon didn't matter. The Packards had a new member to the family, and they began to set about the reconstruction of Sodor of what would be the first of many times._

 _One of the first suggestions that the newly minted member of the family made was the construction of a Smelters Yard, located not too far from the coast, in co-operation with a smaller, yet no less wealthy railway that ran through the Trumptonshire area. 17 sheds were commissioned on the whole, though only one would be used by the engines of Sodor. They were still working out what to do with the other sheds when Mr Packard mysteriously suffered a heart attack._

 _Odd as it was, the elder brother-in-law took over and proved to be surprisingly amendable to a few suggestions made by both the Lord in charge of the Other Railway, and to the man who had suggested this in the first place._

 _Rumors that Zero had slipped something into his tea were completely untrue._

 _The ones about slipping something into his orange juice, on the other hand, were right on the money._

 _And so it was that the Other Railway took their first foothold on the Island of Sodor._

 _..._

 _"And this is your office."_

 _Zero raised his eyebrows as he stepped into the office. He glanced to Snort, who was looking grimly at his watch. The rest of his cadets would be there soon, waiting for something military related._

 _"National Service keeping ye up at night, Snort?"_

 _"Just do your job. There are reports there regarding the nature of these creatures. Grout will come soon and look them over with you." The snap in Snort's voice was clearly directed at him. The creatures he referred to were the strange vehicles that seemed to come only from certain areas across the world, including Sodor. It was their job to catalogue them, to see how they worked, and most importantly, find out where their creators were._

 _Zero scoffed as Snort stormed off. He took his seat and stared down at the reports. All pretty boring stuff. There was nothing here that suggested an answer to any problem that the three men might have. The cadre of Trumptonshire figures were by no means good people, but they at least seemed to be concerning themselves with snobbery from afar, with only one case where they were prepared to do anything that approached the word 'action'._

 _Zero, on the other hand, was intrigued. Not just because of his encounter with the Mysterons, but because he had the vaguest notion that there was something about to happen._

 _Something big._

 _Something that would change everything that the Other Railway would be doing._

 _So as he sat there, he had an idea of his own. He reached for the typewriter, paused and then began to type away, furiously._

 _REPORT FROM CAPTAIN ZERO, TO ALL WHO IT MAY CONCERN._

 _First of all, let me confirm that the incident went ahead without anyone noticing. Officially, Harry Topper passed away in his sleep today, leaving his son to look after the family business. The Topper Fair will no doubt continue, thought to a much smaller degree this time around, without my influence to guide it._

 _Likewise, I have confirmation of Drampf and the Beetle. The latter is currently hiding out in one of the catacombs in the Island, which one we have yet to track down, but regardless, he is an asset that we can use later on. As for Drampf, his father has passed away recently, and I have no doubt that should we need to give him a little push on those thoughts of power that he currently has, we should pursue that line of enquiry._

 _I have a proposition, however, for the future._

 _We need to adapt. There are things out there that we do not understand. Things we can never understand. And unless we, or fate, makes us indestructible, we must prepare to fight our corner at all costs._

 _To that end, I suggest this. We begin to widen our net. Not just this so called 'Lost Engine', but all engines should be put under the microscope. Why stop there? Planes, boats, cars, buses, bikes, anything that is alive that shouldn't be should be monitored to the extreme._

 _And perhaps more._

 _We will discuss this in more detail should you find this of note._

 _..._

 _1955._

 _The report never got anywhere. At least, that he heard of. He never directly asked about it, the looks on Snort and Grout's faces when he arrived in his office the next day were message enough._

 _Lord Belborough never spoke to him for the next few years, mostly sending clinical and rather cold hearted reports to him to follow up on. For the first time since that night where he had found the list, he began to wonder if he wasn't on the wrong path._

 _And then, one day after he learned that his wife was going to bear a child, he drove to Sodor as it was instructed. He bought a few things to eat, then sat in his car and waited._

 _A procession soon came down the street for a wedding of some sort. He glanced at the flower arrangemenet. Well he hoped Mr and Mrs Stone would be very happy together and not at all like his relationship with Mrs Packard, which appeared to be slowly sinking into the quagmire as far as that was concerned._

 _As the wedding proceeded, he headed off in the opposite direction to grab a few things to keep the big three happy. Eventually, he found what he needed and drove off, taking an old shortcut he'd known from the original days._

 _As he drove, he glanced around him. How very bloody boring. Was there nothing exciting going to-_

 _Which was when the castle exploded, and a huge black cloud of solid darkness shot up like a cork from a bottle._

 _The car left the road and slammed into the ditch. All trains came to a screeching halt (Except for Edward, Henry and Gordon who were all knocked out of their minds in a bar somewhere), and everyone stared up in horror and confusion as the darkness came rushing over towards a small grotto._

 _Zero jumped out of the car and scrambled towards Kirk Ronan with every ounce of strength and speed he had. As he stood there atop the hill, he watched in amazement as white and black energy slammed against each other, again and again. He saw four small engines fighting too with increasing speed, one of which came apart from the force of something or other. And then the ground shook and Zero found himself spinning and hitting the ground with great force._

 _Frantically, he righted himself and watched in amazement as the both of them slammed against each other. The shockwave it created sent everything hurtling backwards, energy seeping into everything and everywhere, the Island pulsating for a moment and becoming visible from Mars._

 _From the ground, Zero saw the white energy retreating towards a pair of buffers. The black energy raced towards the sky, towards a strange looking hole that lashed out all the colours of the rainbow and more besides. Besides it, a hot air balloon raced up._

 _Something fell from the hot air balloon, hitting the ground with an enormously loud thud. But Zero had no time to check it out. Frantically, he raced back to the car, shoved it out and got in._

 _He had to get this thing dissected, now._

 _He felt almost giddy with glee._

 _Things were going to get VERY interesting indeed._

 _..._

 _"Not bad." said a cold, dispassionate voice._

 _"Who are ye, exactly?"_

 _"I'm the Accountant. Technically speaking, the Lord's assistant." The man smiled. It was a particularly unpleasant experience. "Of course, I'm more fascinated by that thing there. It's from Sodor, right? My parents and brother live there, see."_

 _"Yes, it is, Mr Nosey. One of the few wee things I was able to get back here on me own time to examine."_

 _"Why?" It was a good question, even if it seemed to be said by a slightly portly vulture with a smile that should be censored for everyone's own good._

 _"Because...something nae expected happened. There's something in here that I cannae describe. An energy. And it's not just yon car that's got it, it's just the most noticeable."_

 _"How so?" Was that a genuine note of interest in the Accountant's voice there, as he bent down with some effort to gaze at the car, with it's faint pulsation of black and white energy catching his eye._

 _"Well, I've gotten a few samples from some of the wee silly buggers on the Island at the time whatever happened happened, right? Skin, and tissue, and blood and so on and so forth. And according to yon boffins, what's happened to them, it's nae possible! ...It's their skin. It's not ageing. Or if it is, it's doing so at a bizarre rate. Like the energy's slowing down the age rate."_

 _"So..." mused the Accountant. "Say we have a man in his twenties. In about forty or so years time, he'd be?"_

 _"Maybe approaching his forties? Middle of his thirties at absolute minimum. Now they tell me that what I saw was a leakage from one of the test sites on the Island, but-"_

 _"They're wrong." The Accountant said, softly. He looked at Zero, and for the first time, the Captain felt a chill go up his back. "Tell me something, Captain, how broad a mind have you got? I have some ideas that might be interesting for you to hear."_

 _"...Ye know, ye'd be surprised how willing I am to hear ye out." Zero paused. "Ye're really not going ta give me a name?"_

 _"No, not at present. After all, you could be spying for the Lord. And likewise, you won't give me your real name, will you? Because I could be too."_

 _"...What do ye want?"_

 _"Many things. To be in charge of all the railways, for one thing. To get a better title than Accountant, most definitely. At present though? To tell you a story about something I call...Malevolence."_


	50. Episode 11: Bad Day at Castle Loch

Hope you all enjoyed your Christmas's! Here's another chapter, significantly faster than the last one I had to do, so please, by all means, have a blast with it. I enjoyed writing it, especially for the two Scots. Also, the story stuff is pretty slow here, but it's more to set up the next two chapters more than anything, which is when we sort of shift into the moment the Other Railway took form.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yeah, pretty much!

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Yeah, that's just more set up for why he believes all this stuff, really.

 **Bronze Shield:** Ha! Well strap yourself in then! XD.

 **Game-Watch:** Heh, it's always fun to write Hatt in pain.

 **MattPrice01:** Thanks mate! And yeah, that line slipping in there was just because I figured oh what the hell. Hope you enjoy this one.

 **JD145:** Yeah, it's boring, but passable. Much more so than any of the Nitrogen stuff, or the New Series as a whole.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Pretty much, yeah. Hopefully you'll get a sense of what's going on in the world around about that time, and how it's really kickstarting the whole plot of the present day stuff into motion.

 **UGX7:** This is what happens when you have no idea what to do with a character like Dusty Miller! Yes, the Mysterons are able to resurrect the dead, and use them. Given how small they are at present, they have little control over Zero. It's fine, I get it. It's a lot to take in. Same to you too!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

Donald and Douglas are _? Fill in the blank, is it:

A: Scottish Twins

B: Bloody Hooligans

C: Drunk

D: Really fed up of having to be referred to by their nationality and relationship to each other.

The answer is, of course, all of the above. They enjoy working on the Fat Controller's railway, even if they could do with a lot less work at Smelly-by-the-sea, primarily because Donald was practically marooned there back in 1998 and was left smelling of fish for an entire year. Sometimes, though, when they look at the old wreck (And then the ruins of the castle that is right beside Sir Topham's failed attempt to take up jogging), they do miss Scotland.

One day, the Fat Controller called them to the docks. Not literally, he didn't have that big a megaphone. As they puffed in and ignored the strange antique truck that was being pulled out of a ship, and then tried equally as hard to ignore the lustful look that it's new owner, one , had on his face, they wondered whether or not they'd be getting more screen time.

In one respect, they were right. In another, they were way off the mark.

"Oh look, it's Quasimodo!" sniggered Donald, as they caught sight of Harvey standing there. Douglas gave him a look, and nodded to the other engine. The three of them had bonded over being/becoming Scottish, which was nice for them and only them, as the accents got very impenetrable very fast.

"Lord Callan's castle is finally reopened-"

"Wait who in John Laurie's name is Lord Callan?"

"Aye, and why should we give a flying caber if his castle is reopened or not?"

"How, how do you not know Lord Callan!?" protested Hatt, nervously. "You're Scottish!"

"Aye, and there's not like a grand ol'network of Scottish people that we all know about and use! Ye're daft if ye think we know every one of the Jocks who come over here and start using silly accents!" Douglas.

"Aye, hoots mon, what kind of haggis-eating sassanach would accuse us of havnae comprehensible accents, och aye, the noo!?" said Harvey with verve. Or candour. Or pride. Or shame. You know what, what he said it with is probably never going to understood.

"...Moving on. Who is this prick?"

"He was our MP for years in the House of Lords, and then we sort of found out that he might have...started...paying prostitutes. And also accidentally leaking information to so many countries I don't even begin to comprehend."

"...So he's Jeffery Archer, is what yer saying."

"Yep. In fact I'm honestly not sure whether or not he's just Archer with red hair, a false beard and a ridiculously thick accent. Anyway, unfortunately he's still a toff, so he's throwing a big do that could turn into a big orgy that could turn into a big moneymaker. So basically, I need you to take the banners, bunting and bagpipes to the castles!"

"HA! He's clearly not Scottish! Any fool knows that the average Scotsman has at least four bagpipes on him at all times!" bragged Donald. Douglas didn't think this was quite accurate, but it was early in the day.

There was a long silence, in which everyone felt awkward, as Fatty restarted his brain. "ARVEY! Please load em straight away! I have to get my best kilt on!" Everyone mentally groaned at the image that occurred to them.

"Yes. ... Sir." said Harvey, slowly. The twins were relatively excited. Finally, a night out somewhere they understood!

...

Percy arrived there, because of course he did, as the twins were getting coupled up. He was curious "And where are you twin-twine-twang-two going!?" He hissed, clearly the pills for the headache weren't working.

"Lord Callan's Castle!"

"Who?"

"I dinnae know, he's a bloke."

"By Castle Loch!" said Harvey, who was being 'helpful'.

"I thought it was called Callan Castle."

"I thought it was called Black Loch."

"I thought that going there seems like a terrible idea!" shuddered Percy.

"Awwww, scared that the big ol'monster might get ye!"

"He might-"

"KEEP YER MOUTH SHUT!" said Douglas, having one of his bi-polar episodes. Percy and Harvey began to slowly back away as the twins began to argue again. "THERE IS NAE MONSTER!"

"IS!"

"IS NAE!"

"IS!"

"IS NAE!"

"IS!" And so on, and so on, as the two started off. Lord Callan's Castle is in Misty Valley, or as it's known to the residents of the Island, Oh Shit, We Ran Out of Real Places, Let's Just Steal Some From Enid Blyton Valley. Both engines were determined to get the stuff to the destination so they could perhaps sod off and do something actually Scottish. Like complain about independence.

"THERE IT IS!" cried Donald, his voice cracking.

"WURR ALMOST THERE!" cried Douglas, his voice turning into James's for a moment. Then there was trouble, as per usual.

"Who the hell just leaves trees on the line with nae a word to us!?" shouted Donald. Douglas was more distracted by why there was a single solitary castle turret so far out here. They stopped just in time. I know, I was tense too what with the complete lack of tension enhancers.

There was a loud crash, and the brake-van was promptly buried under an avalanche. As you know, three second warning avalanches are a thing, right? Right! As the guard struggled to eat his way out of the delicious death he would no doubt suffer, like any true Scotsman, the drivers and firemen decided to head off and kill a sheep for lunch.

"We could take the causeway!" said Donald's driver as he began to eat the sheep's leg. Douglas's driver knew that causeways were, quite frankly, not to be trusted. His grandfather had been killed by a causeway, primarily because the silly sod hadn't bothered to move when a train had been coming across it.

"It's too dangerous! And besides, this sheep isnae gonna eat itself!"

"WE'LL NEVER GET TO THE CASTLE NOW!" said Donald, trying to interject some legendary acting into the script.

"I'll phone for help! It'll probably be some daft twit who thinks me accent is thick!"

...

"Splendid outfit, duckie!" said the tailor. He privately thought that the man in charge of all the railways looked a wee bit of a twit, but he wasn't paid for his opinions. The cat looked distressed to witness this. Then the phone rang.

"What an unusually thick accent!" said Sir Topham Hatt as he picked up the phone. "..WHAT?! DONALD AND DOUGLAS!? TRAPPED BY THE LOCH!? THEY'RE EATING A SHEEP!? CAN'T GO OVER THE CAUSEWAY!?"

"That is what I said." said Douglas's weary driver.

"THIS IS UNTHINKABLE!" said Hatt, who was unable to calm down when he was put on the phone. Like all Englishmen, he though that if he shouted at the foreign person loud enough they would maybe understand him better. "I SHALL SEND FOR HELP AS SOON AS I CAN!" He put the phone down. "Bloody Scots, eh?"

"Sir, ye havenae knocked us off, we can hear everything."

"SHIT!"

...

It was dark before the Fat Controller recovered enough to give a damn, and by that time, there were no more sheep to eat. Everyone was growing very, very tense indeed.

"What's THAT?!"

Suddenly, the twins spotted something strange move through the mist. It had the neck of a giraffe, the beak of a vulture and smelled a lot like Irn Bru. There was only one thing it could be.

"TIS NESSIE! She's come to punish us for our rampant hooliganism!"

"FO-SHO IT IS!" shouted Donald, using some of his hip lingo.

"No! Tis me!" It was Harvey, who for some reason had decided to put his hook and that of the Breakdown Train at an angle.

"YOU'LL BE OUT OF A JOB, CRANE ENGINE!" screamed the twins as one.

"On this Island? Fat chance!"

And by morning, the lines were clear. The twins sped off, leaving Harvey to do all the hard work. They wanted to go home and go watch their favourite movie. Trainspotting. A bit on the nose, I know, but still, have you heard the Scots in that? Donald was of the opinion that Robert Carlyle would be a good choice should someone decided to not screw up another movie about them. Douglas could make do with whichever one didn't have a career.

Lord Callan's workers were waiting to unload the trucks, and after arguing about whether or not they shoud do this or head off to the pub, they decided. And headed off to the pub. Once they returned, they set them up in record time, and the party was a huge success.

"AH THINK THEY'RE VERRA RELIABLE." said Lord Callan, eyeing up the lady not too far from him.

"Verra reliable too!" said Hatt, failing at an accent.

"OCH AYE!" said the twins.

And then they decided to get off home before the whole thing turned into some sort of feral mating ritual. They were missing Scotland, just not that much.

...

 _THE PAST._

 _"So...you have an opinion?"_

 _"...So let me get this straight. There's this thing that came around when the world was created."_

 _"Yes."_

 _"Which is made of pure concentrated shadows and evil and the stuff of nightmares."_

 _"Uh huh."_

 _"Which was defeated by a group of old men waving their hands around and saying magic words, while a small imp who looks like a jester but is actually from the future, and that one bloke from Hancock in ghost form."_

 _"Indeed."_

 _"And the things that helped them defeat him turned into steam engines and ended up creating most of the talking vehicles we know today with the help of an alien race of wee men who happen to look like celebrities."_

 _"Mmm hmm."_

 _"And then after that they shoved him in a castle somewhere until some slightly miffed biker opened up the gates of hell and sent one half of him flying through a portal which at some point before the year 2000 will open and deposit him."_

 _"Sure."_

 _"While the other half is currently resting inside an old Marklin class tank engine that was shoved off onto the side and it's honestly debatable how much of what he does is going to be the engine itself or the ridiculously complex and baffling abomination that ye've essentially shoved in it."_

 _"Yeah."_

 _"And yer ultimate plan is essentially to use this thing ta take over yon world completely and basically do whatever it is ye want."_

 _"That...Yes, that is essentially what I have told you over the past three hours." The Accountant blinked. "You think I'm lying?"_

 _"No."_

 _"Well you'd be the first. Why not?"_

 _"Because if ye were trying to convince me ta take part in something, telling me THAT is quite possibly the worst lie ye could have come up with." Zero wiped his brow. "Okay, so assuming ye are not just some crazy homeless arse off the street, how do ye want to do this?"_

 _"Well, obviously getting the two halves back together is priority. But to do that I'm going to need to handle one or two things. Get a bigger influence for starters, there's a few scientists who worked over with this man, Hargreaves. You know him? Ah. I see you do. Yes, this German scientist has the theory that he can create an army of disposable engines that can essentially take all equipment and scientists to wherever it's needed. To get that I need money."_

 _"And how were ye thinking of doing that?"_

 _"Well, actually...how much do you know about the big three in charge of this Other Railway? Because I've got access to the funds, I know quite a fair bit. A lot of money, a lot of ground that isn't being used as anything other than 'bragging rights', and a lot of privacy. Barely anyone knows about them. So, supposing that Lord Belborough and his fellow Trumptonshire constituents were to meet with some unfortunate incident, it would automatically return to the business that the Lord himself runs."_

 _"Where we would, presumably, use it to do...what?"_

 _"Make advances. Use the stuff I've learned from my university. Create technology and unearth secrets that the world will not be ready for. We will make them ready."_

 _"...Ye know I must be mad, this is actually starting to sound workable to me."_

 _"I need you back on the seas, Captain. The ones who started the whole thing, those who haven't been killed by the war, we need to care of them. Get their bodies, melt them down, construct a weapon so powerful we will never be able to stop it."_

 _"Interesting, interesting. But just the two of us?"_

 _"Aside from your crew, I already have several people working to bring together those we need. We need to continue the search for the Lost Engine, but not so that we can merely destroy her." His eyes shone darkly. "Imagine it, Zero. The power of a God!"_

 _"All right, all right-" said Zero, who wanted to move off of this topic now "-but what about the others?"_

 _"They should be here any moment now- Ah! There they are!" Zero turned, and his eyes widened slightly. The man in front of him was young, but looked far older than he should have. Wearing a sort of black leather ensemble and a motorbike helmet that he practically tossed at the bartender, he looked as though he had come from a dodgy PSA about the warnings of drugs._

 _"Mr Boomer, meet Captain Zero."_

 _"Yo."_

 _"Hey."_

 _There was a long, awkward silence as the two men sized each other up. Boomer sat down, lit up a cigarette and stared at Zero._

 _"Well this is fun." He muttered at last. "So yer the sea. I'm the land. He's the fire beneath our arses. Who's taking care of the air?"_

 _In response, the Accountant slid a large folder of paper across to him. "Here. There are people in here who have contact with airforces, not only that, but with the military, and with Mr Zero here, we now have a link to constructors. There's a man in here I'd like you to scout out, P.T. He's got a good track record with the procurement of vehicles to be used. Name of Gotch, recently out on parole for his rather extreme views. He's stupid, but usable."_

 _"And how the hell are we going to keep it secret from Belborough?"_

 _"Simple. We play our parts to perfection." The Accountant slid across their drinks. "Drink up. It's going to be a long few years."_

 _..._

 _It was. Over the remainder of the fifties, the three men carried out their plans supposedly under the guise of helping the Trumptonshire effort. The Accountant mapped out large stretches of woods where the council wasn't using, areas that could be transformed into a thriving metropolis for all the workers who would come, looking for new jobs. The news that the age of steam was coming to an end, ostentatiously because of the disappearance of the Lost Engine, made this even easier._

 _Lord Belborough, Captain Snort and Sergeant Major Grout knew nothing of this. Nor did anyone else, save for those that were recruited to their side._

 _Well that wasn't quite true. There was one person who knew._

 _If he counted as a person._

 _Every time Zero went to remove something to give to the Accountant, or if he was a little too quick to downplay their relationship together, the Clown looked at him and smiled that incredibly disturbing smile. Both Captain and Accountant were significantly concerned about him, but eventually the Accountant had decided that the Clown could do whatever he liked._

 _"I've got a feeling about him. We mortals are no match for him." He whispered one day. Zero was in agreement on that at least._

 _It was 1963 before it happened. The day prior to it, on November the 20th, Captain Zero recieved word from the Accountant to send over the results of several years hard work. Taken from the skin of several of those caught in the blast made by the Malevolence escaping, the compound had been synthesised significantly into a sort of gas form. It would not receive work for another two days, at least._

 _For everyone in the Trumptonshire area had started to feel just the tiniest bit ill. No one was sure why or how, until Doctor Mopp headed off in an attempt to find a company willing to assist in the healing of his county._

 _Enter a small company that had recently been set up by the elder Packard (Having successfully made sure that each male sibling of his wife were removed post-haste) that offered to give treatment to the entire area via a new chemical compound. He offered to show Mopp a test upon some creatures who, by the strangest of co-incidences, suffered from the same virus as the Trumptonshire people._

 _"The experiments were a success?" asked the Doctor, nervously._

 _The Accountant removed his goggles and took a look. "The entire Trumptonshire county's been affected. I doubt so much as a bird will have noticed the gas." He turned to the doctor. "Yes, it is. Doctor Mopp, I must admit, your willingness to test this gives me faith."_

 _"Ah, thank you. I must admit, when your company approached me, I wasn't sure but now-"_

 _"Clean bill of health for everyone there once we inject it! Camberwick Green, Chigley, Trumpton. All will be healthy thanks to you, Doctor."_

 _Mopp smiled. "If you say so. Now, I must join my friends and tell them the news!" He hurried out, the Captain walking in as he did so. Next to the area where the animals had been housed, he watched as person after person arrived in to get exposed to the miracle cure._

 _"What's got a bee in his bonnet?"_

 _"The results."_

 _"Ah." Zero frowned. "I must say, even by our standards this is a little...barbaric. Nae profit at all. I'm a soldier, but this...even the wars never produced anything quite so deadly. An entire county? And for what?"_

 _"Simple." The Accountant pulled out a map. "Firstly, it shows that the gas works. If nothing else, it'll prevent any attackers from getting to the Other Railway. And secondly, it gave us a chance to search the entire county. Wherever that package went, we can trace it from the office records. My suspicion is that it was shipped somewhere to The Merioneth and Llantisilly Railway Traction Company Limited in Wales-"_

 _"Mouthful."_

 _"-but I doubt we'll find it there. I have a suspicion that it is somewhere near the Silver Hatch area at present, hence my sending the big three off to check it out. There's some tycoon there planning to build a racing stadium there."_

 _"What about yon friend?"_

 _"Who, Doctor Mopp? He won't remember us. He's infected as well. I give this entire area a minimum of three years. Maximum five. Then everyone here will be forgotten, cast aside by the government. But not by the public. Better to make examples out of them." He turned to Doctor Gurtzer. "Keep them here for a minimum of two days. That'll be long enough for our men to take control of the town and establish a presence there. My car awaits. We must hurry!"_

 _And so, Zero and the Accountant set off for the now abandoned area of the Trumptonshire County._

 _One day later, the second step of their take over would begin._

 _Three days later, absolutely no one would care._


	51. Episode 12: Rheneas's Rollercoaster

Ah well, might as well get this shit one over with. Fun fact, a lot of references in the last bit at the bottom are to the Trumptonshire trilogy. Some of them are references to lyrics in the very fun and rocking song 'Trumpton Riots' by Half Man Half Biscuit. I highly recommend a listen if you don't take the series too seriously. While I didn't go into too much detail here, more will be provided next time, when we hit the halfway point. Also, the character of Doctor Gurtzer doubles as a cheeky reference to Shed 17 and as a call back to Escape, the guy who 'originally' invented the Fakes.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yeah, pretty much.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : ? ;D

 **Bronze Shield:** Thanks man! Hope you did too!

 **Game-Watch:** I am glad yucks were had! This and the next part will be the last dealing with Trumptonshire, and also the one after that will have the first crossover with the main series. Sorta.

 **MattPrice01:** That's fair! The middle of the season is always the part where I do start to struggle a little. I think you can tell. XD.

 **JD145:** Yeah, right?

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Och, ye cannae be saying such things, ye wee muckle critic! Glad you enjoyed, the noo.

 **UGX7:** It's a pretty decent episode, but it's a bit boring. Yeah, the Trumptonshire stuff is going to come to a end next time, but I had a fair bit of fun setting that up this time. Hope you enjoy it!

 **GreatWestern1522** : Yep!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

Across the country, the UK audience turned on their TV's to see the next episode of Thomas and Friends and reacted thusly.

Parents; Oh look, this one's about Rheneas!

Kids: Who the fuck is Rheneas, oh parent of mine?

Parents: ...Shit, you're right.

...

You sure you don't want to just skip this one? I don't think there'll be anything funny in it.

No?

Uh, all right, what can we say about Rheneas?

...Actually, what CAN we say? He's...definitely a male. And I think an engine. ...He's red? Or magenta, it depends on the toy. And also he...is on a railway- Oh I've been handed a piece of paper from the boss. Uh...

Wait, really?

This is what I'm supposed to say?

...Fine. We'll do it your way.

Rheneas is a brave engine (HA!) who enjoys working in the mountains of the Island of Sodor. Which is good because that's the only place the Skarloey Railway consists of at present. Which is great as long as you like sheep. And a lot of boredom. Which Rheneas did, so kudos.

Even though he is little, he really enjoys feeling like a really useful engine.

What being really useful has to do with being a titch I don't know, but hey, it's a Rheneas episode, right? Who the actual hell cares?

One day, the Fat Controller came to see Rheneas.

"I DID?!"

You did, Fat Man.

"But I don't even like him!"

Tough shit, this is the episode we're doing. Also, apologies for the debris of the fourth wall that we've just shattered.

"Peter Sam, do you ever notice, boyo, that every so often engines and people on this Island start talking randomly to the sky for apparent reason?"

"I do that all the time!"

"...Yes, sorry, not sure what I expected you to do about it. You're...well, you."

"Anyway, uh...Rantaro!"

"Rheneas."

"Close enough. I have an important job for you, bucko!"

Rheneas was in prime Bland mode. "Golly gee gosh gumdrops by gum goody goody greatness, an important job! Oh thank you sir buddy friend pal chum Topham Hatt!"

"You see, Simpkins! This is prime suck up material! Why aren't you like this...this engine, whatever his name is. You are to take some children up into the mountains-"

"AND MURDER THEM!" said Rheneas's newly discovered serial killer persona. Skarloey and Peter Sam took a few wheelturns backwards.

"...No, please don't. You must make sure that they have a wonderful time and that their teacher does not whine and tell me what a big fat loser I am. I got enough of that at every single one of my parents day. Also, make sure they're back in time for their tea. I really don't need whatever the hell is going on here to get even worse with a missing child case."

"Yes sir!" said Rheneas. He was worried that he wasn't special enough to make the trip, well, special.

And he was absolutely right.

Can we go home now? No? Fine. Bring on the Zero subplot, I say.

...

"Rusty! You are an engine who is interesting and knows how the minds of normal people work!"

"...Strangest conversation starter I've ever heard, but yes, that is what I do."

Rheneas watched as the teacher and the students got in, and the teacher began to drink and drink and drink away her many problems. "How do I interact with the children and make sure that they have a 'fun' and 'special' time?"

"How do you have fun?"

"I stare at paint drying, build cardboard boxes and watch old reruns of Space 1999."

"Ah. You may be in more trouble than I expected. Uh...tell them mountain facts. You know the mountains better than anyone who is currently alive. I don't know whether that's a compliment or an insult buuuuut take it as the former."

Rheneas knew his best was...adequate perhaps. He felt like a very little engine indeed. To be fair though, Gordon was the biggest engine (And dick) on the Island, and he couldn't make anything that interesting for a bunch of snotty kids.

So to help, the driver had been given a map by the Fat Controller to highlight the special and important aspects of the line. Rheneas was close to falling asleep as they stopped midway across the Causeway.

"This is the Old Castle! ...It is...old and important and special. ALL RIGHT, MOVING ON!" Rheneas's driver turned to start the little engine up again.

Then Rheneas began to sink into the mud. He personally thought that A: The mud was far too cold for his liking, and B: That the castle which he saw every day was about as interesting as...well, himself.

Once they had managed to save Rheneas from drowning and once they had managed to apply the defibrillator successfully, they set off once more on their Magical Mystery Tour De Farce.

He was sure he could think of something exciting.

...

"This is Valley View of the Skarloey Lake. It is...a view of a lake."

Rheneas welcomed the sweet embrace of death. It couldn't come soon enough for his liking.

...

"And here's the Viaduct. I once threw myself off here for a laugh. It hurt."

The children felt a little sorry for the engine and his crew, so they ooohed in an attempt to make them feel better. All this resulted in doing was making Rheneas's Serial Killer side declare war upon minors, of all forms. No amount of hard hats and pickaxes would be able to stop him. Rheneas's serial killer side was not a smart cookie, hence why he would often give back control once he saw a butterfly.

"Must be special, must be special!"

...

"Must be my bad luck." murmured Rusty, who was on the Rocky Ridge Line. It was not as delicious to eat as it sounded. The tracks had been made awkward by the heavy rain.

"Too bumpy and uneven! No one can ride on these! ...Ah just stick a bloody sign in it, it'll be fine." said Mr Hughes, who then said the worst words anyone could say on this Island. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"Much." Rusty murmured to themselves.

...

Rheneas was still trying to think of something that would make the children's trip special. All he could come up with was letting them go home early, which he felt reflected worse on him, somewhat.

As the linesmen were quite thick, they had forgotten to fix the points towards a safe track, relatively speaking. Safe tracks weren't a thing on Sodor. Suddenly he was on the wrong track. "OHHHHHHHHHH shoot that's the wrong track!" He screeched, master of stating the bloody obvious that he was. "RUSTY HELP!"

"Oh damn it." sighed Rusty. "And here comes the William Tell theme. Careful, tracks are bumpy! Time for me to go be the only competent engine here again!"

Rheneas screamed as he hit every dip, raise, bump and awkward turn with the full force of his weight. "OH AH OH AH OH AH-Oh there's my shed- OH AH OH AH!" The children cheered, and then screamed as they realised that death was imminent. The teacher curled up in the foetal position and began to sob. She had wasted most of her life. Such was the fate of all who attempted to teach higher education.

"I HAVE MANY REGRETS! Namely that I HAVEN'T LIVED ENOUGH TO REGRET!" He took the incline as hard as he could, the students oohing and aahing in a non-patronizing way this time. He took the trestle bridge and rushed through the waterfall so fast that it nearly took the teacher's head and hat off. She covered her eyes as Rheneas rounded the bend and came to a rough stop at the station.

"I...I hate everything." whimpered the teacher.

Rheneas was on her side.

"Just in time for sodding tea!" wailed the teacher, who fell out of the coach.

"BEST TRIP EVER!" said the kids, who were scared that Rheneas would do that again if they didn't appease his massively bruised ego.

"Well done, Roland, you did a grand job!"

"Sir, are you drunk?"

"YES I AM. WHAT OF IT?"

"I just want some, that's all. Ta sir!" And as Rheneas began to drink, the children cheered, and he didn't feel like a small engine any more.

Then he met Gordon on the way home and was promptly reminded of his height and low status in life.

That rather ruined his day, to be honest.

...

 _THE PAST. NOVEMBER 21ST._

 _The gang of sailors, workers, bikers and other assembled members of the Accountant's group arrived back in the Trumptonshire area two hours after leaving the citizens of the county to take in their new vaccinations. They wasted little to no time in making sure that all the relevant areas were at their disposal._

 _Gotch and Boomer headed off to take care of any vehicles, including the requisitioning of several tanks from the Chigley War Museum and the various fire engines from Trumpton. Messers Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grubb would not be getting their station back in time soon._

 _Elsewhere, Zero oversaw the construction of several barricades. There was only one entrance from the rest of the civilised world to enter into, the rest were boarded up. A few streets and the town square were also afforded room for the soldiers to hold their ground._

 _The airforce was not likely to be needed, but just in case it was prepped and ready to go from a nearby airfield._

 _Then the Trumpton clock began to chime. Steadily, sensibly, not too quickly, not too slowly, telling the time for Trumpton, as the song went. The Accountant turned his attention towards Pippin Fort, the area where Snort and Grout held the national service tryouts and, where it must be said, the best chance of the Old Guard holding out would be. He was just about to set off when all of a sudden, a bullet whizzed past him into the ground._

 _"GET ON YER BIKE!" he heard a rather loutish voice say._

 _"Shit!" Zero hissed. "Snort's back early!"_

 _"It's fine, it's fine. The men are ready?"_

 _"They are, but there's gonna be a wee bit more fighting than we figured upon!" Zero swore again, this time as a bullet narrowly avoided clipping his shoulder. "TO ARMS!"_

 _Snort and the boys up at Pippin Fort had been planning on returning early any-road, seeing as the tip off they had heard about had been a total bust. Grout and Belborough were AWOL at present, but he had no intention of letting the side down. Not when they were doing such a good job of making sure that all was well! The boys, consisting of teens for the most part, opened fire on the street. No one was sure how someone had managed to get a message through to Captain Snort, or how he'd began assembling the boys from the fort._

 _Several of the assembled mob got into position through the many colourful houses and so on, and began to fire back. For the first ten minutes or so, the bullets were traded back and forth with nary a loss of life on either side. Zero realised quickly that they needed to turn the tide and fast. So he rushed off to make a call._

 _Suddenly, several of the more loyal Other Railway workers made a mad dash down the street towards the town square. Even as they did this, however, the rebels charged over the barricade, swinging and clashing and thrashing with any and all weapons they had to hand. They hit each other slap bang in the middle of the streets, slamming into each other and getting into one hell of a jam._

 _No one, in the chaos, noticed where the hell the Accountant had gone._

 _..._

 _Elsewhere, the two remaining members of the trinity were on their way back on the nine o'clock express to Camberwick, when they felt the back-end of the train jolt._

 _"The hell?" hissed Grout. The Lord looked backwards and did a double take._

 _There, at the back end, was some kind of juggernaut, armoured to the teeth and looking (In as much as a featureless train with no facial expression can look) like he wanted very much to kill everything in his way._

 _"Grout, we need to leave. Now."_

 _It was not the most graceful of exits for a politician to make, but Belborough could take comfort in knowing that it wouldn't be the least graceful by a long shot. As they took off from the train, they watched as the Juggernaut crushed the carriages and people underneath his wheels._

 _"The mill!" Grout growled. "We get to there, maybe we can organise some form of counterattack!"_

 _"I've heard worse ideas! Go, quickly!"_

 _Grout took off in the general direction of Windy Miller's mill, while the Lord prepared himself for a fight-_

 _And was promptly shot through the ankle._

 _Screaming, he toppled backwards. He reached for his pocket in a blind panic, but as he did so, he felt another bullet hit his shoulder, pinning him on the ground. His hand jerked upwards, sending the gun scattering out of reach._

 _"Oh dear!" said the Accountant, with little real care. "That's a pity, isn't it? Come on your lordship!" He grabbed Belborough and began to drag him back towards the tracks. Already the Juggernaut was moving backwards into position. "You know what they say? Time flies by, when you're the driver of a train!"_

 _Belborough screamed._

 _..._

 _There was a loud wailing of sirens, and the men in the Fort beamed as the familiar and safe sounds of the fire brigade filled the air. No doubt those brave chaps were coming to help them!_

 _"ELEVATE!" they heard one man shout. They barely had time to consider that if this was the Captain of the fire brigade, he had clearly become American rather quickly. As the ladder was erected, and the sound of footsteps clattered, they felt a sense of relief._

 _Then P.T Boomer dropped in, and began to open fire. Thanks for the message, Cap'n, he thought. Snort took one look at this...and bolted towards the general direction of the mill, pursued quickly by Zero himself._

 _"Can't even stick it out with your troops, Captain!?" He mockingly sneered._

 _The sneer was promptly taken off his face as a bullet thudded directly into his forehead._

 _Grout urged Snort through, and slammed the mill shut._

 _Zero stood up and, with some degree of effort, pulled the bullet out. That was, in his opinion, the one downside to being immortal. There really was no bloody pain relief like being dead after a shot like that._

 _And so he advanced on the windmill, the sounds of the battle behind him fading away._

 _..._

 _And elsewhere, far above the chaos, the Clown sat and watched and smiled._

 _It was all going rather well, in his opinion._


	52. Episode 13: Salty's Stormy Tale

Soo...here we are! The halfway mark! Some things are revealed, a few loose ends are tied up and we move onto the second half now, where storylines start to converge a little bit. I hope you forgive myself in indulging, for just as this last series has a lot of call backs to previous seasons, so too does the Zero story to what I've written before. The characters of Ross and, mentioned, Cromarty are a reference to a little known series called The Adventures of Portland Bill, made by Ivor Wood's company. Just a little reference for fun!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Agreed.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : I guess. XD.

 **Game-Watch:** Magic, perhaps. Or because he's an idiot.

 **MattPrice01:** I really took a lot of time having fun with the episode this time, and I really went all out on the Zero stuff, we're moving into more familiar territory. Hope you enjoy more this time around!

 **JD145:** You never know. :D It could be anyone!

 **Radical Sandwiches: *** THROWS MONEY*.

 **UGX7:** Really?! Wow, I did not know that at all! That certainly makes a lot of sense though, now that you point it out.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

"I say, old things, you're looking pretty wrecked, all things considered!"

Blearily, Edward raised his head from it's downwards position. He regretted it instantly. The whole world seem to swim in and out of focus for a minute. Judging from the groan from besides him, Toby was sustaining a similar ache. "Boxhill!" He slurred as he tried and failed to move forward in a way that indicated dignity. "Didn't realize you were back on the Island."

"Ah. Well, it's bad news I'm afraid, old thing! The Iron Circle's moving me places, won't be able to get into contact so easily for a bit. That being said, I have information that might be of use to you two and old Quackers!"

"...Oh?"

"Hmm. Follow me!"

"That might be more than I can manage at present." groaned Toby.

"Then I shall make Duck follow me TO YOU!"

This achieved, the three engines listened as best as they could as Boxhill gave a quick run-down of the news. Apparently, coming today was a shipment from the Other Railway, delivered by a group of workmen and a few lone diesels who had managed to escape prosecution through some legal loophole or another. This shipment was rumoured to be nothing more than empty crates and boxes.

"Well that's not worth much." growled Toby, who wanted to go back to sleep very much so.

"Ah, but it's not the stuff itself. It's the more, ah, itinerary that's attached to it."

Now that caught Duck's attention. "Really? I suppose you'd need some sort of explanation for why you're lugging around a ton of empty boxes and stuff."

"Yes. And rumor has it from my contact that it might give you a clue as to what it is that we're fighting here. It arrives tonight, not too far from the lighthouse."

"Then I think it's time we planned a heist!" Edward said, sounding more cheerful than he had in weeks. The others looked at each in worry, but they decided to roll with it.

Perhaps if they had bothered to check the weather forecast, they would have rethought this plan. But they hadn't, so they didn't.

...

The engines love working when the sun shines. Especially because the Island of Sodor is apparently the freaky part of the UK where the sun actually does what it's supposed to and warms everything up. People on the Island call it the 'Sodor Effect'. People off the Island call it the 'Reason Why Half The Staff Is Off With Heatstroke Effect'. There's a lot of differences between Islanders and non-islanders.

One day, because they had nothing better to do and because there are exactly two engines who help out regularly at the Docks, Thomas and Percy were assisting Salty there. The old crusty sod was worried. And no, I'm not just talking about Carlin.

"It may be sunny now, mateys! But there be a storm coming! ...In more ways than one, oooh arrr! Isn't that right, Polly?"

"WRAAAAK! STORM!"

As Salty moved off, Thomas looked to Percy. "It may be sunny now, mateys, but there be a storm coming!"

"...That is the worst pirate accent I've ever heard. And the worst Salty impression. In fact I'm pretty sure that that's the worst thing I've ever heard you say. Apart from the fact that you told Henry to his face that you thought trees were icky and stupid and gross."

"I said that?!"

"You were drunk at the time."

"I often am."

"Also, storm's a coming, cap'n! Aye aye and all that." Percy looked bored. I know the feeling.

There came a loud wail of "BOO-HOO-HOO!" from the little station right next to them. Salty had apparently decided that this was a DEADLY insult to him. More deadly than a killer stingray floating atop a jellyfish on a pirate ship that was poured by death. And fired crocodiles. That was how deadly an insult it was.

He would have complained about them to his mum. But she had passed away in bizarre hermit crab related incidents. Or at least, the random old bat who had told him she was his mother.

Engines didn't have mother, he realised in that moment, and therefore was even more miserable about it.

Later, the Fat Man arrived to give him his plot device, I mean job, for the day. "I need you to get the old arsehole out."

"Sir, ye're not me type."

"...Realised when I said it how bad it sounded. No, I mean pick up Fergus from the Smelters. His driver doesn't know the line and he's already hit me several times with his truncheon for daring to suggest that he get a guide. And now they're stuck there and Arry and Bert are giving him crazy eyes. So you're going to be towing Fergus around and listening to his old and pointless stories. You've got that in common at least!"

"MRAK! CUT ME TO THE QUICK! CUT ME TO THE QUICK!"

Emily arrived, pushing a line of trucks and having a hangover that would have killed anyone else.

She was Scottish though, so to her it was just a light breeze. "Hey, Salty! Ye look well! ...That was a wee bit of humor, ye look worse than Gordon. And he's currently drowning in that puddle over there!"

"GLUG GLUG GLUG!"

"So what's the matter? Tell old Auntie Emily, so she can go punt an arsehole's face in!" Despite her words, she sounded interested, unlike most of the Island.

"Nobody likes being made fun of by silly wee tank engines who don't know their arse from their starboard!" Salty said.

"...And if ye could give it ta me in a way that I understand?"

"Thomas and Percy are being bilge-rats!"

"Ah...that is bad right?"

"Aaaaaaaaar, lubber, that it be."

"Right, I can never tell, I always like rats. Maybe explains why I havenae killed James yet."

"Goodbye, lass! TELL ME TALE!"

"I will! ...Once I work out what it is." Unlike Thomas and Percy, she at least waited until Salty was out of the docks to insult him. "Right. Got to go find some tank engines and bust a cap in yon arses!"

...

"Those be dark clouds, matey!"

"There be a fierce storm on thar way, Cap'n!" Percy apparently knew only one pirate saying. Not for the first time, Emily wondered how old these two were. And then she realized she really didn't want to know, because how old engines were compared to humans would be a can of worms she couldn't close back up.

"It's nae nice to copy the way others speak!" She lectured.

"Oh yeah, soccer mom?! I'm pretty sure that Donald and Douglas are thinking of suing the pants off of you!"

"...Ye want to go, Thomas? I'll kick yer arse into yer boiler if ye dinnae go and make up with Salty!"

"Why do you care?!"

"Someone on this Island has ta! And since Edward and Toby are off playing silly spy buggers, then it has to be me!"

"We were just having fun!" said Percy. "Besides, it was Thomas who started it with his terrible acting!"

"YOU ROTTER, I did not! ...Fine we'll go and say sorry!"

As they moved off, Emily nearly fist-punched the air, figuratively speaking. Her first job as incredibly grumpy and hungover 'Designated Sane Person' was going a treat! True, Gordon was now clinically dead and was now being resuscitated by the Breakdown Train, but baby steps were needed.

"Oh dear he isn't here!" Thomas said.

"Well what a pity."

"...Hang on, silly spy buggers?"

...

"We're like a Hanna Barbera group! All we need now is the talking animal side-kick with a speech impediment and we're set!"

Edward had come out of his daze by this point, and was wondering to himself why he had thought a caper like this was a good idea. At this point, both Duck and Toby seemed to be having fun, so he felt churlish to tell them to knock it off.

The diesel had left the flatbed, and the itinerary, unattended.

"Now, all we have to is-"

'Never Gonna Give You Up' suddenly started blaring from Duck's cab. Unaware that he had accidentally invented a long-running meme, Duck winced and had his driver bring the phone so he could answer it.

Don't question how he could.

"Hello? Oliver, NOT NOW! No I know that you have achy-wheels, but it's not my problem! ...No, we're only trying to SAVE THE WORLD HERE YOU...I'm not shouting. No, YOU'RE BEING UN-GREAT WESTERN!" He hung up. "You know, I'm getting a new phone anyway, who needs this?"

He had his driver throw it backwards.

There was a loud crash. And then the world got a little darker.

"You just hit the lighthouse's fuse-box, didn't you?" Duck remarked, quietly. His driver nodded in shame.

"...RUN!"

And off they scarpered, Edward remembering to leave money for the lighthouse keeper and steal the train.

...

"This don't look much like the smelters!" muttered Salty, who saw Fergus and immediately grimaced.

"Right on time! For one of your kind, you're really quite the mover!"

"...I'm going to let that slide."

"All right, sunshine! So you're my new partner! I've heard you're a cowboy, who plays by his own rules!"

"Aaaar, ye be watching the wrong channel, matey!"

"It's SARGE to you!" Fergus was enjoying this quite a bit. He decided to smack Salty on the nonce with his truncheon. Polly took umbrage to that and slapped Fergus back. Stunned, he had no way of stopping Salty from dragging him off around the Island on a whistle-stop tour.

...

It was a fierce storm, like Salty had said. The ships that depended on the lighthouse were in dire need of assistance from the coast. Unfortunately, someone had broken the fuse-box.

Elsewhere, Duck was being given merry hell by the other engines as they dug through the contents of their steal.

"THE LIGHTHOUSE LAMP HAS GONE OUT!" wailed the Captain.

"Oh, NO SHIT!" said his crew.

Salty and Fergus fought their way through the wind and rain, and Salty through Fergus's demands that they engage in a high-speed pursuit. Apparently in the seventies there were a large amount of random cardboard boxes that were left on pavements just so the traction engine could run them over. Thankfully, Fergus was saved by the arrival of a man with a lantern.

Ross, the light-house keeper, was stressed. "I need someone to act as a generator!" He said in a very high-pitched voice, his balls had yet to drop. "And Cromarty's gone off to get his tea!"

"The hell's a Cromarty?!" muttered Fergus. Salty shrugged, he had no idea, but it was best to play along with the weeping lighthouse keeper. Then he had an idea.

"Fergus has a flywheel! Ye can use that to power the generator, if ye want!" He grinned at Fergus. "Not a bad idea for one of my kind, eh?"

"I'LL TELL THE GUV ON YOU!" snarled Fergus, enraged at this gross misuse of his body.

"HURRY!" said Ross, who had just wanted to rant to the engines, and hadn't expected an actual answer. Soon the flywheel was attached and Fergus was busy working the generator's shaft (NOT LIKE THAT, YOU...DIRTY MINDED PEOPLE). The ship, which might as well have been pushed along by hand, was still bobbing out in the water. Why they didn't just head off towards the docks is anyone's guess.

Just in time, the light kicked back on.

"THE LIGHT'S BACK!" screamed the Captain.

"OH, NO SHIT!" screamed the crew.

"That went well!" said Salty. "Arrrr, how ye be doing?"

"I hate my life!" moaned Fergus. "Can't I just go beat up a perp?"

...

The next day, the two of them chugged back to the docks. For whatever reason, instead of dropping Fergus off where he was needed, or even back at the Smelters. They were surprised to see a large crowd of cheering followers. Unfortunately, they had been expecting someone else, and thus had to make do with a smelly old diesel and a steam traction engine stuck in The Sweeney.

"THERE'S THE DIESEL WHO SAVED ME SHIP!" said the Captain.

"Oh, no shit." said the Fat Controller, who was aware of the Rule of Three. "Wellllllllll done Salty and the other one." Fergus sighed, deeply depressed, while Salty beamed with pride. The two little sods rolled up alongside him with Emily's prepared apology speech.

"Sorry if we hurt your feelings." muttered Thomas.

"We were only copying you because we think...oh dear god, who wrote this shit? We think you're grand!"

"Then say no more me hearteys! Ye owe me ten bottles of the finest grog!"

And now they will all work together and have fun together as good friends should-Okay, who the hell slipped that last line in? That's really, really not a good line to end the episode on!

What? We are!?

I'm so tired. And it's only episode thirteen!? HOW?!

...

"All right, let's see what we've got here." Duck peered down at the inventory. It was messy handwriting, but he had seen worse. As he read, his eyes widened. "Huh."

"What is it?"

"Absolutely nothing if you don't know how to read between the lies. Luckily I had a master teaching me how to." He blinked once or twice. "The boxes themselves are nothing special. What is interesting is their specific measurements. The first two there-" He nodded in the direction of the flatbed "-are sized just enough for a certain pair of Caledonian twins I know."

"Wait-"

"The smaller boxes back that way are about right for the Narrow Gauge engines. And there are several boxes that seem to indicate that whatever remaining intelligent rolling stock we have is to be removed post haste."

"...Shit, that's what the Railway Board has been up to!" cried Toby. "They're removing us one by one!"

"No, not us." Edward looked up in concentration. "Think about it, there's nothing here for any of the Tidmouth Seven. You'd think if they were getting rid of any competition we'd be the first to go. But they're not."

"...No, because you're too high profile!" Duck said, realising something. "I don't know about you, but my fan-letters don't even come close to the amount you get every day. You're celebrities thanks to the documentary, removing you would be far too public and far too attention drawing. But Donald and Douglas disappeared for a full season back in 1998, I've been decreasing in appearances since the fourth one, Oliver was barely in the last one in any meaningful way, and the Skarloey engines are practically one or two episode wonders now. We're not necessary."

"...Then we need to act. To warn everyone."

Duck nodded. "I'll contact Boxhill. This itinerary and the notes I'll make should be enough to make sure that the feuding sides grow the hell up!"

In retrospect, perhaps leaving the information out in the open was asking for trouble.

But that's a story for next time.

...

 _THE PAST._

 _The second that Zero entered the mill he regretted his choice. He should have at least asked for assistance from Boomer, asshole that he thought the biker was, he was at least strong enough to take two men on._

 _The mill's gears were turning and clanking together that there was no doubt in his mind what would happen with one short, sharp shove. He wondered vaguely if his Mysteron transformation covered having his brain crushed into a million tiny wet pieces. He decided not to think on it, and as he moved forward, he drew forth his revolver._

 _He ascended to the stairs, his eyes peering this way and that, every shadow seeming to invite a potential threat._

 _He was on the top stair when Grout rammed into him with the full force of a rugby player. Zero screeched in panic, firing off a single shot that seemed to ricochet around the room. He stumbled backwards, his leg catching between the wooden slat and breaking his fall in the most painful way possible. He twisted around to see Grout, bleeding from the head, staggering to his feet and rushing towards him._

 _He fired. The first bullet hit but Grout was like a freight train now. He ploughed into the Captain with full force._

 _His mistake._

 _The wood was rotten. Windy Miller, a distant relation of Dusty Miller, had intended to fix that at some point. The weight wouldn't have done anything had it not been for the way that Grout seemed to leap onto the step in an attempt to make the final blow all the more final._

 _Zero screamed in shock as he swung himself upwards, his leg freed from it's painful trap. He grabbed hold of the door-frame, almost on auto-pilot. All of this in one second._

 _Grout hadn't been able to stop himself. The sudden loss of the ground under him had sent him plummeting towards the ground, or in this case, the very large and painful looking machinery that seemed to open like a jaw for him. He fell, feet first, into it._

 _It took him longer than Zero was comfortable with to die. Luckily his screams were cut off by the mill throwing a fit at the large new ingredient for the bread that it had to make._

 _"Well-" said Zero, trying to force himself back up onto his feet "-talk about gaining some ground there."_

 _He was just congratulating himself on the stellar pun, and trying to avoid the agony of his leg rearranging itself, when he saw Snort step forward. His gun was significantly larger, and it wasn't currently being crunched up by heavy machinery. Snort looked, it must be said, deranged._

 _"I never trusted you!" he hissed. "You and your...stupidity have set us back so long! You wiped out my home!"_

 _"How funny." Zero was aware that he really shouldn't taunt the mad man holding what appeared to be a rifle and pointing it at his chest, but he'd just watched a man be force-fed into a grinder and did nothing to help, he was a little far gone by this point. "When twas me destroying MY home, ye had nae problem with it!" The gun was too far away._

 _"Yes. It was necessary. For the greater good, she was there! The lost engine was there, we had to wipe her out before she wipes us out for the greater good!"_

 _Zero laughed. "Snorty, lad, dinnae ye know? The Greater Good is what people who can't face up ta the fact that they've din horrible things say to make sure they sleep well at night. Take me for instance, I know that I'm shite. I'm honest about it. I don't care about ye and yer precious little town-"_

 _The bullet hit his shoulder. Oh shit it hurt! They hadn't hurt as much before._

 _"I'd be quiet if I were you." Snort advanced forward. "I am going to enjoy this a lot."_

 _His finger was on the trigger._

 _And then suddenly, the world flickered for a moment like static on a television._

 _The Clown stood behind Snort. Smiling._

 _And then he opened his mouth._

 _Zero was staring right at the both of them. He didn't blink or look away, it happened so quickly (Or so he remembered. He thought) that he couldn't. And yet for the life of him afterwards, even to the day he told the story to John, he could not recall just what The Clown had done._

 _What he did remember was that three seconds after The Clown's jaw had opened far wider than any human jaw had any right to open, Snort screamed. He screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed until he reached the lung capacity of an average human, and then he continued to scream for ten long seconds before suddenly, and with no warning, he stopped._

 _Snort was gone._

 _The Clown stepped forward, and bent down to look Zero in the eye. Zero stared back, and it would have almost been a comfort to see something so terrible and so complex in it's wonderful horror._

 _He saw nothing. Absolutely nothing in the Clown's eye._

 _And then The Clown spoke. In a language that no one has ever been able to decipher, yet somehow Zero got the gist of it. The message really was simple when you got down to it._

 _Find the Malignance. He is the answer. As he has always been the answer._

 _He will save us._

 _And then the Clown was gone._

 _..._

 _And the rest, really, can be summed up far more succinctly._

 _One day after the Battle of Camberwick Green, President John Fitzgerald Kennedy got into a car and was driven down the streets of Dallas. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you what happened next. Suffice to say, in the chaos of dealing with the idea that someone had killed such a high figure in the world, the British Government paid no heed to the rumours of something that had happened in Trumptonshire. It was too late by then too._

 _The people returned, to a clean and healthy looking area. They had worked very fast in getting things in tip-top condition. The Accountant quietly took control of things while the infection took route. He was helped by this by a gift that Captain Zero was soon to learn came from his Mysteron chums. Belborough, Snort, Grout and the rest of the Pippin Fort men had been...duplicated. This in a less than perfect way, but this was workable, as the Accountant and the Captain could sell their unique appearance as being the price to pay to be freed from the illness that had ravaged the town._

 _Over the course of the next three years, cameras were set up by someone, one of the tech boys probably, that recorded the dying days of the county. Removing all sound from them, it soon became impossible to tell that the people were beginning to panic. Once sufficient enough footage was taken, the entire county was sent off in the Juggernaut to his other master, City of Truro, as proof that the Other Railway was done being the plaything of well meaning, if ruthless, would-be philanthropists._

 _The footage itself was later redubbed by a man name Brian Cant, and under the direction of Gordon Murray, televised to the world as three stories of life in a rural village. No one was ever quite sure why the hell the intro showed a clown winding up a music box, but Zero suspected that it was a message of some sort. Remember what you have to do._

 _The poor souls of the county were soon removed, and rumours that they had been locked inside the music box that the Clown had last been seen carrying before his disappearance for quite some time were never substantiated. But Zero knew._

 _In the aftermath of this, the Accountant decided that this title no longer suited him. Someone had once mockingly called him a 'Fat Director'. He decided that this would be a fine moniker to own. After all, the Fat Director of the early lines had been the man in charge of all the railways. And that was what he wanted to be._

 _And from there, Captain Zero watched as the sleepy area of Trumptonshire vanished. If the Beeching Cuts had been meant to stop the branch-lines, then this was undoing a lot of that attempted progress. Stretching down from that area to Barrow, the Other Railway grew and grew and grew, grass and trees felled whenever they got in their way, water was saved only to service hydro-electric dams that had been created by Doctor Gurtzer, and one by one every major line had at least some area where they had to go through the unmarked territory. Soon, areas that had been unclaimed for years were bought and wiped out for the Other Railway to expand like a massive, unstoppable tumour that grew and grew and grew._

 _..._

"Are we at the end yet?"

"Hardly, John. Hardly. Let's skip ahead now."

...

 _The nineteen seventies._

 _By this point, the Packards were growing restless. Jenny Packard was away at school, becoming quite the ruffian on the hockey field as it turned out. But Mrs Zero glared at the Captain on the few occasions he dared venture home. Besides which, this identity was beginning to bore him significantly. Construction was now consuming his every waking moment, and as he had begun to train a secondary group of workers who had came to the Other Railway to practice their skills in expanding the OR's borders if necessary, he decided that one last job was in order._

 _The idea for what that was came from the Fat Director himself. According to notes he had pertaining to the nature of the Malevolence, there was something that he called a 'portal device' that was located somewhere in Trumpton. That was the one area of the county that still remained somewhat active, and had not yet been totally torn apart. It had been claimed by someone else before they could tear it completely to shreds. But even as such, the Other Railway loomed over the area with a general idea that soon, very soon, it would be theirs._

 _The portal device, he would later learn, was responsible for the transportation of many OR troops and diesels over into the Island during the Battle of Sodor. It's other purpose is best saved for another day. Suffice to say, he needed the best. The bravest._

 _He needed a Pack._

 _And there they stood. Kelly, raring to go and full of life. Isabella, determined to get stuck into the muck. Alfie, a calm, measured digger. Patrick, who was beginning to wonder if life could be any better. Ned, quietly content. Oliver, sober as ever. Max and Monty, always willing to obey orders. Nelson, humble as he always was. Byron, the nature lover. Buster...who had yet to discover rap music._

 _And of course, the true leader of the Pack, the one who did his best no matter what, and was always, always ready to help out._

 _Nigel._

 _What happened next would define many lives for a long time to come._


	53. Episode 14: Snow Engine

So we've reached the point where we're actually introducing the villain proper into the story now. And if the explanation for what Zero has to do to free him doesn't make sense now...basically, give it a few chapters, hopefully I'll explain it better when we get there. Also, brief bits with the Pack. I'm not going to spend too much time on them, but hopefully you can see where I'm aiming for with their scenes here.

 **AaronCottrell97:** I am considering that scene, we'll work it out as we get closer to it.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : There is an explanation for how stupid that is, which you'll see over the next few episodes.

 **Game-Watch:** I mean he was like that in the episode itself, and it's meant to be a little bit nuts, so...yeah? *shrugs*

 **MattPrice01:** And now you know why I did the Pack episodes first. Such a collection of quirks does not occur naturally after all. It's probably the name.

 **JD145:** Glad you like my approach to Season 8 and beyond.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Season 7 is, more than anything, the season of the average, more towards the positive end to contrast Season 8's slant towards the bad, but average nonetheless. And as for that subplot idea...sit on that for a season or two. ;D

 **UGX7:** And it's juuuuuust the beginning. ...Huh. That makes sense.

 **Bronze Shield:** That's fair, he is a very cartoony character, but I have a bit of affection for the silly beggar.

 **Australian Guest:** NO PUNS ARE BAD PUNS. XD. And yes, I am glad that you find the Clown freaky, that was definitely what I had intended people to feel towards the character.

 **JSW:** Eh, I actually left the JFK stuff fairly ambiguous, but if you want to read it that way, then sure.

 **Guest:** Last time in episode, sure, there's a bit left on the storyline front.

 **GreatWestern1522:** Denial is GREAT.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

"Mr Duck, if I may be so bold as to suggest this, maybe you should take the time to sleep once or twice a month, it does wonders for you."

"I'LL SLEEP WHEN I'M DEAD, TOAD!"

"Which given you've worked out that the enemy's plan involves incredibly precise crates that they will somehow hide you under while they sneak you off the Island without anyone noticing, might be sooner than you might expect. ...Sir, please, I've got enough trouble with Mr Oliver, begging your pardon, as it is."

Duck's interest, focused squarely upon the problem at hand, was piqued. "Problem? What problem?"

"NO ONE RECOGNISES ME, DUCK!" wailed Oliver as he began to sob into an empty crisp packet. "They think I'm just a stunt engine!"

"For gods sake, Oliver!" hissed Duck, veins throbbing on his forehead. "I wasn't in the last series that much either, or in the movie at all! And maybe it would help if you weren't neon green right now, and you'd made the effort to clean your wheels up a little bit-"

"YOU WERE THERE, THOUGH! You got a nice speaking part! No one looooooooves me! Why?! I, who was saved from scrap by Douglas, consigned to the scrapheap of TIME! I MIGHT AS WELL BE DEAD!"

Duck privately thought that death was something that would improve Oliver's character something fierce.

And so, as Oliver rambled on and wept, and Duck tried to focus on something other than his shedmate and the future, the first snowfall of the year began.

And it wasn't even winter yet.

...

Oliver and Duck are Great Western engines, relatively close friends and constantly on the verge of murdering each other. All of these things are things that you should know by this point.

This rather explains a lot about their mood on the week following Duck's discovery of the itinerary, where the skies threw a massive fit and pelted down snow at the Island in an attempt to get them to pack it in. It was the annual 'Put The Christmas Lights Up Even Though It Is Not Christmas' time of year, and as the two engines were forced out to clear the lines and various other places, they grew colder and crosser.

More so than usual, anyway.

Deliveries were needed, not least to the small towns that were closed off to the rest of the Island.

Oliver thinks that snow is messy and cold.

"I think snow is messy and cold, Toad!"

"Do you, Mr Oliver?" Toad's sense of allegiance to Oliver was waning in recent years, things were beginning to get rather tiresome. How long can one engine milk being nearly scrapped for, anyway?

"I'm a Great Western engine-!"

"Are you, Mr Oliver? Are you?"

"I should not have to shiver! Let the storm rage on, the cold shouldn't bother me anyway! ...As I'm sure a future song will sing about!"

"Begging your...pardon, I guess, Mr Oliver, but I think snow is splendid!"

"And this is why no one lets you have an episode, Toad."

"...Sir, I've had two, technically."

"HARRUMPH!" said Oliver. As in literally said it, he didn't just make the noise. What kind of freak does that? I'll tell you what kind of freak does that, Oliver the Great Western Prat does!

Then he moved off and crashed into a tar wagon, as he was wont to do being a complete idiot.

Duck had to clean it up, and the amount of 'DONENESS' began to rise significantly.

...

Later, the prat and his brake-van butler embarked throughout a jaunt through the countryside, passing through a village where a group of children were pestering their parents to make a giant snowman.

Unless you lived up in the mountains, the amount of snow gathered was quite frankly an impossible amount. And that was just for the body.

It was a particularly busy day, where Oliver had to pass several times to deliver all the important stuff that was needed. And each time he passed, it grew bigger and bigger and bigger, so much so that if it had fallen on anyone important, it might have crushed them to death. Oliver's reaction changed as he passed by.

First pass "Oh, that's cute, I guess. UGH, COLD!"

Second pass "Holy shit, that's big. UGH, COLD!"

Third pass. "The hell is all that snow coming from- SHIT! COW ON THE LI-"

Fourth pass. "Bloody cow and bloody cold and bloody bloody bloody frigging frig on a Christmas tree- Oh wow, that's one biiiiiiig snowman.

Fifth pass "DO THESE PEOPLE HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO WITH THEIR LIVES?!"

"Just an observation, Mr Oliver-"

"With you, Toad? Never!"

"Snow is MAGICAL!"

"Oh save the hippie dippie love thy neighbour crap for church, Toad! Pah!"

And on the sixth pass, Oliver was enraged for no apparent reason regarding the completion of said snowman.

"HOW THE PISSING HELL-" he raged to Duck that night "-DID THEY GET A HAT THAT BIG?! It is UNFEASIBLE!"

"Oliver." growled Duck. "Please, I'm trying to concentrate, I just have to finish off a few notes, and then I can send this off to whoever it is who is running the Iron Circle and we will be saved!"

"And then they wrapped a...what was it, a scarf? Toad thought it might be a mayor's chain, which goes to show you what a FOOL HE IS REGARDING SNOWMEN AND SNOW IN GENERAL!"

"You are not even listening to me, are you?"

"But WHAT HAT SHOP MAKES HATS THAT BIG?! It is INSANE!"

Duck's levels of annoyance reached heights never before reached by human or engine, and he resolved to move sheds tomorrow night if Oliver wasn't shut up by that time.

...

After Oliver attempted to stop the rapidly fleeing Duck the next morning, he returned to his shed to see the Angel of Death standing besides his shed.

"SIR!?"

"Me, Oliver! You must return to the mountain village! ...Whichever one that is. There are goods needed for the annual 'festival' whatever that means."

"But...But sir! IT'S SNOWING!"

"...Yes. It is. And your point being?"

"It makes MY WHEELS ALL CHILLY!"

"...And this is my problem how? Really useful engines don't argue."

"Yeah?! The evidence says otherwise, fat man!" Oliver would have stamped his feet, had he any. Instead, he settled for a rather rude blow of the whistle as he stormed off to pick up his trucks.

He did, however, leave Duck a rather rude present in the form of yet another dirty novel, slipped this time in-between the pages of a hardback he was reading. He only wished he could be there to see the GWE's reaction.

Soon he was on his way through the tunnels and bridges towards the mountain village. The snow was cold (As opposed to all that warm snow that you see everywhere nowadays) and the lines were frozen.

There was worse to come.

"Ohhhh the points are frozen, aren't they? WHY DOES NO ONE WARN ME OF THESE THINGS-Ohhhhhh shit here we go!" Oliver wailed as he hit the points and skidded into the sidings. "SHIVER MY BOILER!"

Brakes were applied, but they might as well have not been, for all the good it did.

"Problem, Mr Oliver?"

"THERE IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS-"

There was a loud thwump as Oliver hit the snow and stumbled down the slope. He realised in horror that he was going to be entering the snowman's arse three seconds before it happened (Yeah, I've only got myself to blame for this one), and he had barely time to shut his eyes before his entire world went white.

Toad somehow went on his side and slid up besides Oliver. "That could have been a little smoother!" And the audience laugh track began to snicker, until it burnt out and died a painful death.

At which point, the snowman caved in on Oliver. Thankfully, he wasn't important, so he wasn't crushed to death. He felt awful though, this had nothing to do with the snowman dying on him. He thought the children would be upset.

And he cared not one jot.

"Right, well, screw you lot!" said the driver, and went for help. Hatt was just finishing up for the night when he heard the phone ring. He swore, spun around-

"MROW!"

-and trod on his cat. How the poor thing wasn't killed or severely paralysed we'll never know. "Duck will bring the breakdown train first thing in the morning. Now piss off, I want to go to bed."

...

"Night Oliver!"

"Wait, you're not sticking it out here with me!?"

"And freeze our balls off? You must be joking!" The fireman and driver hurried over to the village inn, The Stuffed Boar, and found a nice, cozy room to spend the night in. And also preparations for the 'festival'. Neither were sure what the term 'blood sacrifice' had to do with said ritual, but they were tired, so they didn't question it.

Toad, meanwhile, had frozen solid. His face was kept in the same place for the rest of the night.

"I was right all along, Toad! Nothing magical about snow! OHHHHHH why are there so many icicles in places where there shouldn't be icicles!? OH THE PAIN! OH THE- Toad are you ignoring me?! ME?!"

Toad privately thought that Oliver had a point, unfortunately he no longer had a mouth to express this with, so he had to settle for a rather pained "BRRRRRR!" that didn't help Oliver's mood at all.

On the plus side, Duck, after grabbing a large stack of papers and sending it off to the Iron Circle, got a good night of kip.

The next morning, the townsfolk saw the situation.

"OUR SNOWMAN HAS EYES IN IT'S TUMMY! THE ANCIENT RITUAL TO END THE ACCURSED WEATHER HAS FINALLY WORKED!"

"No you fool, it's Oliver!"

The cult leader, after tying the driver and fireman down for the sacrifice, assisted the children in doing...something to Oliver.

"OH GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" He screamed as he woke up, to discover that most of the stuff on the snowman had been moved to his.

"OUR SNOW ENGINE." droned the townsfolk. "HE SHALL END THE BLIGHT OF WINTER'S BANE!"

Oliver was just happy to the centre of the attention, and suddenly found that the snow wasn't so bad after all. He was quite enjoying himself, right up until the mayor pulled out a sacrificial knife.

By the time Duck arrived, Oliver was in deep shit, and the older Great Western engine had to help out quite a bit in order to save the idiot and his butler. The Winter Festival, as it turned out, was a way to try and bring back something approaching normal weather to the Island. This involved a complex Wicker Man style torture where sacrifices were hidden inside the giant snowman until they froze to death. It was a crazy plan, but not the craziest anyone had heard on this Island.

"Some magical things about snow!" sneered Oliver as he was dragged backwards.

"PERHAPS. MR OLIVER." Toad was in agony at the moment, and would have gladly clipped Oliver across the face in any other circumstance.

"Definitely! LIKE NEARLY BEING MURDERED."

...

As they arrived back at the sheds, Edward and Toby looked anxiously at Duck. "I thought you said that you'd sent the inventory off."

"I have!"

"Then what's this massive binder with the words 'ITINERARY/INVENTORY' on it doing here?"

Duck paused, and then with dawning horror, remarked "Where the hell's my book?!"

"..."

"..."

"...Oliver. WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

...

 _THE PAST._

 _It had taken Zero far longer than he had anticipated to move things along, and so by the time he was halfway through the digging, he was constantly getting calls from his wife regarding the rapidly growing up Jenny._

 _"Why the feck aren't ye coming home any time soon?! Yer daughter's going ta be entering the business soon, ye're at least going to see her off, right?"_

 _"I'll consider it!" Zero nearly snarled. "It's a VERRA important job we're doing at the moment, so if ye don't mind, I have BUSINESS TO ATTEND TA!" And with that, he slammed the phone down, completely ignoring the slight cracking noise from the rest of the landline. Reginald knocked the door cautiously, and then slid across a file with the information that was needed, before taking his leave rather quickly._

 _Zero looked outside. The Pack was doing the job well, most of the ground right besides the makeshift office was being dug up nicely. For a moment, he considered buying a front-loader, or perhaps a excavator, but he dismissed the ideas for now. He wasn't going to be holding onto these for much longer-_

 _There was a loud thwack as the roof promptly hit the top of his head and he fell to the ground. He glared up at Ned, who looked at him in embarrassment. "Oops!" said he. Zero was this close to sending the idiot to the scrapyard when Nigel revved up._

 _"Captain! Captain! We think we've found something!"_

 _Zero's eyes widened, and he staggered to his feet, leaping onto the side of Nigel cab, he urged him on to the dig site. There, Oliver and Byron were staring in surprise at whatever it was that they had unearthed. The human jumped down and walked as casually as he could over, he didn't want to give too much indication as to what it was that they had found._

 _It wasn't the gate that he had been looking for. It was far odder than that._

 _At a glance, it appeared to be a rather old, battered looking chest, the kind that pirates, if they were stereotypical, hid their treasure in, except clearly much, much older than the days of pirates. A massive series of golden chains, strangely not touched by rust or any signs of aging, linked in the grooves and all lead to a rather significantly sized gold lock. On it, burned into the wood, were images._

 _Zero was about to dismiss this, when suddenly something in his mind clicked._

 _"Good job, lads." It was always best to offer praise, kept them on their toes and most importantly, loyal. "I'll take a look at it, now get back to work!" As they headed off, Zero bent down and looked at the images. There was one that seemed to show an old fashioned candle standing before something that looked an awful lot like the gate he had been sent to find. Another showed some sort of angelic figure hovering over a large mass of huddled engines. The third, much larger this time, was that of four crudely created towers, each connected to each other (The chains had been used to show this), and sparks flying off._

 _The fourth appeared to have been blotted out._

 _Zero was about to stand up when he heard a voice._

 _"Help me."_

 _"God, ye really need ta get yer lungs looked at-" But there was no one behind him. Zero paused. He looked up and down, and then all around, just in case it was one of those weird things where the person was somewhere he didn't expect._

 _He was right. He just wasn't looking in the right place._

 _"Help me...please..."_

 _Zero paused. And then he looked at the chest._

 _Putting his hand on the lid, he rapped it, sharply. "Are ye in there?"_

 _"In a manner of speaking." said the voice. It was raspy, with a faint high note that made it seem a little bit...odd. Well, even odder than the fact that it was a voice coming from the chest. "...You seem intelligent. ...Where am I?"_

 _"Trumpton." Something at the forefront of Zero's mind made him ask the question he had been considering for some time since seeing the chest. "Are ye the Malevolence?"_

 _"...No."_

 _"...The Malignance, then?"_

 _"...Oh. So that is what they have called me." The voice didn't sound surprised or insulted, more grimly amused than anything else. "I imagine she didn't exactly help clearing that matter up. ...The year. What year is it?" Zero told him. A bitter laugh escaped from the Malignance. "That is...a long time to be away." There was a pause, and then slightly sharper. "How do you know me?"_

 _"Some...well, I'd call them friends but they seemed more like worshippers to me...some creatures that claim that you created them asked me to find you."_

 _"...The...The Mysterons, correct? That is quite a way in the distance in this timeline."_

 _"This timeline-?"_

 _"Do you know what I am?" The Malignance sounded more cognisant now, more aware of everything going on around him._

 _"...I think ye are incredibly strong. Yer not human, that's for sure. I dinnae think yer a God in the sense that ye've got a long white beard and ye sit about all day watching us, but ye're definitely powerful in that sense."_

 _"Smart. As I have said. And tell me, what do you know of the Malevolence?"_

 _"It's bad. Really really really bad. It's powerful and insane and evil to the core, and my boss thinks he can harness it to bend the world to his will and all the rest of that crap."_

 _"Then he is a fool. Not like you." The voice sounded scornful now. "The Malevolence is overpowering, vicious, rotten to the core. And yet it is also incredibly predicable. All evil is, in the end. Even chaos, for all it's perks, grows boring and recognisable."_

 _"So then, is this the part where I open up the chest and ye kill me?"_

 _"No. This is the part where we make a deal. I don't want the Malevolence to take this world, I have plans to make it far better than any of them could. And I need help to get out of my prison fully. Even opening the chest will not achieve that, though it will give me...breathing space, as it was. And you must obviously want something aside from serving your pathetic master."_

 _"...Ye're not so stupid to think I'll believe ye? I read books, I know what happens ta the wee twit who opens up the cursed relic!"_

 _There was a pause. And then a slight chuckle arose._

 _"You make a fair point. You would be a fool to trust me at this point, and for all your...humanness, you do not strike me as a fool. Very well then. ...Are those your vehicles?"_

 _"They are."_

 _"How about then, you get an idea of what I can do? Wouldn't that be useful? Two things. One, we can do it at night, and two...fetch me a lantern."_

 _..._

 _Meanwhile, at the Pack's tent, the vehicles were having a whale of a time, playing cards against each other (Oliver won, but then again, having a helping hand certainly didn't hurt him in that regard) and the occasional race (Buster, despite his best efforts, were beaten by Max and/or Monty every time, though the three of them had a good laugh about it). Eventually, however, they had to turn in, especially with the fast approaching storm on its way._

 _"Can't wait for tomorrow!" enthused Patrick. "Where are we off to next, d'you reckon?"_

 _"Somewhere quiet, no doubt." murmured Buster to himself. Suddenly, two banksmen hurried up and whispered something to Isabella. "Problem?_

 _"We're being called to do some late night stuff tonight!" Isabella grinned. "Can't wait to get stuck in! You up for it Kelly?"_

 _"Nah, think I'm going to catch some kip. Might come out if it gets better!" Kelly smiled cheerfully, he was in a good mood tonight. He glanced over. "Byron, you up for it?"_

 _"I guess." said the bulldozer. And they idled off together, ready for whatever Mr Packard wanted them to do. The others were already fast asleep, but Kelly couldn't help but wonder why it was that he was still awake._

 _So he sat, and waited to drift off._

 _The other member of the Pack currently unable to sleep, slipped out the back and went to see if he could give an extra wheel or two._

 _..._

 _By the time they had reached the field that their banksmen had been told to approach, it was too dark for any work. Isabella was just about to see if they could head back, when they heard a loud shout._

 _"That came from the middle!" Byron moved forwards, his front already preparing to dig someone out if need-be. After a moment of hesitation, Isabella raced onto the field with him._

 _The voice grew louder and louder as they approached the edge of a thick wood. At last, they reached where it should have been, had there been a person actually there. But there was not._

 _"What the-"_

 _And then Isabella began to sink._

 _Just a moment ago, the ground had been muddy, but firm as mud could be. It certainly wasn't quicksand, as it appeared to be now. Isabella screamed, and revved her tires, but she might as well have been standing still for all the good it gave her. Byron raced forwards, his tracks giving him more of an advantage in avoiding sinking as fast. He reached out his blade to try and tip Isabella onto dry land._

 _And then, slowly, as if time had slowed, the nearest tree tipped over._

 _The old oak tree slammed into Byron with such force that his engine cut out completely, and in some places, began to crack. With a horrified wheeze, the weight of the tree shoved Byron under the mud completely. Said tree followed soon after, it's branches and roots having become entangled amongst the dozer's innards._

 _Isabella, meanwhile, was having a far slower and far, far more horrifying descent. By now the mud had reached her nose, and though she continued to scream, it was far quieter now._

 _"Not a bad demonstration." Zero admitted, as from a safe distance, he and the Malignance watched the two sink from sight. "Good thing I remember how ta throw me voice. ...So are ye killing them?"_

 _"No. Merely giving them some more amusing...ah, what's the word I'm looking for? Quirks, that's it! Disgusting as they are in their servitude to humans, there is amusement to be found from their dysfunction. You need their help to find the gate. It is important for us, myself and the Malevolence, that you find it and begin to work out how it works. Otherwise, I will nt have a way out of my prison."_

 _"Tell me how it works."_

 _"The chest you see before you is...essentially handcuffs, if I am using the words correctly. I am conscious, I am able to preform some basic motor actions, like what you have just seen here. I can use some magic, in the same way that one can, if they struggle very hard, manage to get around being cuffed. So by removing me from the chest, you are essentially taking the cuffs off...but I am still in prison. What will come out of the chest is a pale shadow of what I could be."_

 _"...I...think I get it?"_

 _"...Anyway, we can work it out when we find the gate. ...The others, do you want me to give them 'quirks' as well?"_

 _Zero grinned. "Might be funny. Make them interesting at long last!"_

 _"Sir, wh-what are you doing?"_

 _Zero didn't even need to turn around to realise it was Nigel speaking. And then, he had a very brilliant idea. A very nasty idea. A very brilliantly nasty idea._

 _..._

 _Ten seconds later, Nigel began to scream._


	54. Episode 15: Something Fishy

I hope you like what you've seen thus far! The next few chapters will be moving us onto the events of the first two seasons, if I remember correctly, and as Zero wasn't in those ones at the time, we'll be getting a few callbacks and see what he was doing there, and how his relationship with the Malignance develops.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Agreed.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Thaaaaaaat he has.

 **Game-Watch:** Oh, you will. You will.

 **MattPrice01:** Thank you!

 **JD145:** I am taking that as praise! Yeah, the thing is, I wanted to do the Pack episodes first because I'm a fan of the idea of going back and explaining away moments played for laughs as being actually significant in some way. And this is. Just not for a long, long time.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Top 10 Anime Betrayals. THE OAK TREE WAS THE REAL VILLAIN.

 **UGX7:** Those errors have hopefully been corrected! And no, I don't hate Oliver at all! I really love him a lot. It's just that he's a lot of fun to write for with regards to his personality. I can exaggerate a lot with him, especially in his later episodes, and it's actually fairly close to how they've been portraying him thus far in the CGI series. So...yeah, just a bit of fun. Again, the Twins will be addressed, don't worry.

 **Bronze Shield:** And a happy NON-SPECIFIC THING to you too.

 **Australian Guest:** He has seen more than one horror movie. And yeah, Oliver is a very stupid, scrap obsessed Batman.

Hughie99: Thank you! Yeah, that is something I want to get into as we go along, especially as in Season 8 and 9 I'll be slowly revealing what and who the Malignance is. He's a different kind of villain in that he sees what he is doing as right, and you get to see how this came to be. Now as to voice actors, I would actually recommend you type into YouTube a man called Anton Lesser. He's in Game of Thrones as Qyburn, for those who watch that, and in Endeavour as Superintendent Bright. He's a really good actor, and I picked him primarily because he's got a very raspy, low voice that can be either threatening or charming. Or both. The thing with the Malignance is, despite the fact that there are similarities with the Malevolence, is that they have different ways or operating and acting and even thinking.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

"Good morning, Thomas!"

"GO TO HELL!"

This was how most mornings for Arthur started. He was unaware of Thomas's seething hatred for him, and thus was rather enjoying his current status as inmate in the world's least secure asylum, known by it's more popular name of the Island of Sodor.

He was still learning his way around. He had been to the tunnel (Which had been mysteriously blown up as soon as he had entered), up the hill (Where someone had tried to push him back down) and even across the viaduct (A combination of the two). Luckily, Thomas had always been ridiculously close by and had taken the blows meant for him.

He didn't seem too happy about it, either. He had kept rambling on about how Duck had 'promised him that these assassination tools worked just fine', which Arthur took to be the signs of the concussions he had accumulated.

One morning, Arthur had intended to head over to the Docks to doing whatever it is engines did over at the Docks besides screwing things up and teasing the hell out of Cranky. But by accident, he ended up stumbling into Smelly-by-the-sea. He gasped. He gaped. He attempted to put a clothes peg on his nose.

The sun made the sea sparkle. Except for all the mutated seaweed, that is. The gulls called across the harbour to each other, and then began a fierce battle over a solitary chip.

This was Arthur's favourite place.

"It's so rural! And yokel-filled! It would make a perfect study for my new documentary, whenever I get the chance to make a new one!" He told the other tank engines over some ale.

Thomas sneered. "Pa-thetic! Who the hell do you think you are?! Besides, no idiot wants to work down there for anything more than a few hours!"

"Oh? Why not? I was thinking that it was a lovely place to put my yacht-"

"YOUR WHAT?!" shrieked the Number One Prima Donna. "WHAT DO YOU EVEN NEED A YACHT FOR?!"

"Oh?" asked Arthur, genuinely innocently. "You don't have one. I would have thought even with your show being second in the ratings to mine-"

"NOW YOU LISTEN HERE!" thundered the tank engine.

Percy noticed that Duck and Oliver were decidedly frosty with each other. "So…what's your reaction this?"

"That depends-" said Duck and Oliver at once "-on what HE has to say about it!" They glanced at each other with barely contained rage, before spitting out their drinks and storming off to work.

"Hmm…that's not good." Stepney muttered. "Meeting in a few days, we'll try and give you guys something of an update."

"You seem peeved, Thomas. Bad day at work?"

Thomas stared at Arthur in rage. "I am going-" said he "-to scream into my pillow. I know not when I shall be back. Before I go though, I would like to congratulate you Arthur. You are the first and only person who has ever cared one jot about the fishing village."

…..

"There's going to be a new line to the fishing village-"

"MOTHER FUCKER!" shouted Thomas the Tank Engine. The Fat Controller closed his eyes, counted to ten and then continued onwards.

"I have to decide which engine I need to punish. I need an engine to go down there and work it for a bit, maybe get some footage for their show or something."

Thomas beamed. He was already going to take the time to see if he couldn't come up with anything to try and kill Arthur with while the red engine worked down there. Judging by the expression on Arthur's face, he looked like he wanted to actually work there. And now he could put those plans into act-

"Thomas! Since your branch-line is shutting down for the moment, you'll be doing all the important stuff down there!"

"FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffine then sir." Thomas, plastering on the cheesiest and fakest grin he could, said with as much rage kept out of his speech as he could. Arthur was disappointed.

Not as disappointed as Thomas was, though.

Instead, Arthur was sent to haul coal to the steelworks with Duck and Percy. The atmosphere there wasn't much better, as Duck was still fuming at Oliver for…whatever it was that had happened.

As he returned, he caught sight of Thomas looking enraged on a siding. Emily had turned her back to him to try and hide how much she was laughing at his misfortune. "Do I smell a fishy engine?!" teased Arthur.

"YES YOU DO YOU SODDING-" Thomas took a deep breath. "Yes. The bloody fish wouldn't stop going all over me, and then I had to get dragged back by that arsehole over there!" The orange-brown engine had been introduced in an episode shot previously, though thanks to a broadcasting mix-up, he wasn't able to be named or do anything of importance. Soon, though.

"So it's going well then! I tell you what, I envy you, Thomas. Rich as I am, I don't think I'd be able to woo the Fat Controller as well as you must have been able to do!"

"You are this close to joining the dinosaurs in being extinct, Arseless."

Arthur wished he could go there, he would be much happier than Thomas. Then again, at present Kelly was more happy than Thomas was, and that said a lot.

….

"ALL RIGHT!" Thomas began to laugh maniacally. "The giant boxing glove? CHECK! The electrified tracks leading into the seaweed that appears to be…chewing off the pier? CHECK! A group of suspiciously fish-filled vans that I'm going to have to pull? CHE-Oh shit!"

Thomas was grumpy. The fishermen had caught lots of fish. Bloody losers, he thought. It's not your job to catch fish, it's your job to complain about not catching any on daytime talk shows and say that this is the fault of the government! Somehow!

"Hurry up! I have a big schedule today, lots of important stuff on TV! Have you ever been on TV? No? Didn't think so!"

"You're a fussy little prick aren't ye." The lead fisherman said. "Just enjoy the nice salty fresh air we've got here!"

"BLEUGH!" said Thomas, showing the fishermen where he could stick his salty fresh air. Soon he was steaming along as fast as he could. After delivering half of the fish, he returned back in equally fast time.

"Get this over with, and then I get to watch Arthur's smug face as he-"

He never finished his sentence, as some faulty points sent the trucks one way, and him onto another, the old pier that for some reason was still operational. "Ohhhhh dear!" He wailed as he went through every piece of construction equipment there was, before coming to an abrupt stop on the edge.

"Phew. That was-"

Then the boxing glove went off and sent him face-first into the water.

"HEEEEE'S fallen in the water!" said one truck, who was a big fan of the Goon Show.

"PFFT!" snarled Thomas, spitting up water and trying to ignore the sensation of seaweed attempting to eat his face. "I should really just be the bigger engine about all this, I suppose."

He thought about it.

"SOD IT! PETTY TO THE END!"

At which point, the tide began to come in. Thomas began to wonder if perhaps he could go grow gills under water, or perhaps get some scuba equipment.

And then he started to drown.

The Fat Controller heard the news, and did something never before seen on the Island. He looked at the timetable. "Ohhhhh, okay, Arthur's the nearest engine we can send who won't just leave Thomas to die. He'll come right away! Now, leave me alone, me and a currant bun have a date to be going to!"

The ice that was keeping the fish cold was melting rapidly. "I hope someone comes along soon- YEOUCH!" Thomas said, and then shouted. He had the feeling that soon he was going to be the one on ice, given the way the day was going.

And then it got worse.

"Are you all right?"

"PISS OFF ARTHUR!"

"Do you always take a bath here? I always prefer the washdown for a really nice-"

"If you are going to mock me, at least have the decency to save me from the inevitable death I face before you do so!" Thomas growled, trying his hardest not to cuss Arthur out for fear of being left behind. "Or…I don't know, take the fish to market or something, the pong is awful!"

"Right, leave him to drown!" said Arthur's driver-cum-cameraman. "We can't afford the Breakdown Train, so the Breakdown Van will be hear soon!" And soon they were off, leaving Thomas to regret his choice of words.

"I meant SAVE ME YOU LOONS!" he screamed after them.

Arthur raced along the line and arrived at the docks just in time. Sorry, if you want tension, you need to find another season. It's season seven, where tension drops dead. And then gets resurrected several times, and then beaten to death repeatedly. He then hurried off to see Thomas at the fitter's yard.

"How you doing, mate?"

"Thank you." Thomas said in a sulky manner. "For helping me- WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SILVER TRASH BEHIND YOU!?"

Continuity apparently took a back seat today.

"Thank you! I wish I could have the fishing village."

"You can keep it! I've had it up to hear with ruddy fish! I hope I never have to experience them again!" Thomas said, cursing himself for the rest of his life.

"Tell me about it." Growled Henry.

And that night, as Arthur, Emily and whoever the hell the two engines were who had apparently teleported in from some sort of temporal fluctuation were, the Fat Controller arrived. "Okay, I need a volunteer to work the line-"

"ME!"

"Sure, that's fine. Whatever, Mr Angelis, can we get to the wrap up speech please? It's yours."

Moving onto that speech, Arthur arrived bright and early next morning. The smell of fish, and mutant seaweed was everywhere, but he was sure he had the best line on Sodor.

Which isn't that far removed from the truth, to be honest, with the way things were going.

….

The silver engine and the orange engine waited off on the side. They weren't really who they claimed they were. They watched as a small, compact diesel moved into the Island and winked at them.

"Good morning." purred D1 in an oily voice. "Guess who's back."

As to the identity of those two strangers?

Well. We'll come back to that.

...

 _THE PAST._

 _The next day, the group were informed that Isabella and Byron had been assigned elsewhere for the time being, and that work should continue as it had been for the most part. The others were confused about this, but for the most part accepted it as something that had to be done, Buster noting that he would compose an album to commemorate their sacrifice. Kelly was the only one who hesitated a moment, before glancing to Zero in confusion._

 _"Where's Nigel, sir?""_

 _Zero looked confused. "Who is Nigel?" He knew very well of course. But it was fun to watch the memory loss take effect._

 _"Well, I...I..." Kelly's mind was drawing a blank. He was sure that there had been a Nigel here recently, and he was fairly sure that he had spent some time with him over the years. And yet trying to focus his attention on Nigel was like trying to stop sand falling through a sieve. Impossible. "I don't..."_

 _"No Nigel here, Kelly. But thanks for the reminder! Let me introduce ye to the newest member of the Pack!"_

 _The excavator rolled forward. Something about him made Kelly tilt his head, there was something familiar about him. Maybe it was the paintwork. Or the slightly unsteady way that he rolled forward, like he wasn't used to having this number of wheels. Or maybe it was the face. The face was very, VERY familiar after all._

 _"Hiya hiya hiya I'm Alfie let's get mucky dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig!" said Alfie. And if anyone could remember Nigel's voice, they would have had the shock of their life. Because there it was. With just the hint of madness now._

 _"Yes, Alife, get ta work, lads! Sooner we're done here, sooner we can get a move on."_

 _..._

 _John looked surprised. "The hell did ye do?"_

 _"Simple, really. The Malignance was definitely somewhat related to the Mysterons. And that included the power of reorganizing matter however he wanted, though in that state, it was just the once. It took some time and a whole lot of screaming, but we managed it. Compacting some bits, expanding others until we had ourselves a grand old excavator. We had Nelson, we didn't need another transporter. Of course, his mind didn't survive the journey. But then who's could have, it would have been quite painful."_

 _"Ah. And then?"_

 _"And then we got on with the job."_

 _..._

 _THE PAST._

 _"Ehhhh this stuff is crap! When are we going to get some real SHIT!?"_

 _"Don't know bro! Wassup with that/!"_

 _Zero had been listening to the two banksmen whining and screaming at each other over the loud music for the last three hours. It was agonizing to listen to, like listening to two seals constantly slapping each other while a walrus wailed off in the distance. And yes, that metaphor had gotten away from him there, but then again, listening to those two was mind destroying._

 _Hmmm...now there was a thought._

 _Almost as if picking up on it, the Malignance began to concentrate. "What would you like me to do with them?"_

 _"See those twin lorries over there? Let's see if we can't give them more of a personality." Zero no longer cared about the business, he would destroy it for whoever came next if he had to. It was time for Mr Packard to die, and for the Captain to retake his rightful identity._

 _Anyway, after ripping the minds of the banksmen out and putting them in Max and Monty's bodies, and standing back to watch as the inevitable freakout occurred, Zero was feeling much better about things._

 _And then-_

 _"WE'VE FOUND IT!"_

 _Oliver had been digging up an area near the fire station when his shovel had hit something or other. The other vehicles crowded around it, and as Zero rushed forwards, he gazed down in wonder at the sight of the gate._

 _It was time._

 _Slowly, with the assistance of Nelson and Kelly, the gate was pulled up and came to rest atop the muck. Everyone stared at it in wonder._

 _And then something began to happen._

 _Slowly, but increasing at a furious rate with every second, the gate began to glow, and for the first time in his life, Captain Zero stared at a time portal. It flashed and glowed, tendrils lunging off of it almost in desperation. It was as if whatever the portal was, it was trying to get out. The Pack began to back away, but too late! The tendrils lashed out and grabbed hold of Oliver, Patrick, Nelson and Kelly, pouring images of what may be and what would be into their heads at record speed._

 _Large cement buildings rising up from the ground, the countryside covered in metropolis after metropolis, rails and roads everywhere as far as the eye could see. Patrick saw this and the horrible feeling that no matter what anyone did, this concrete future would happen, permeated into his brain and shattered all else, there was only the concrete, that was the only thing that would last._

 _Images of the skies splitting open, raining down creatures after creatures that tore apart engines that looked familiar upon the Island of Sodor, and then rampaging their way across the known world and eradicating all humans that stood in it's way hit Oliver like a freight train. Whimpering, his arm spun around, and nothing he could think of could drown out the inevitable thought: You cannot stop this._

 _What Nelson saw, no one ever knew. Whatever it was though, it wasn't pleasant._

 _And finally, there was Kelly. All he saw was repeated images of his friends dying, being revived in the most painful ways possible and then dying again. He saw the Malignance, now in a form that was more normal and yet far more terrifying than even his present state, standing tall, as an army of steam engines stormed over everything, cutting down anything and everything that was in his path. The end of the universe, the end of ALL universes, played out at once, and a single thought projected itself through that future and into Kelly's brain._

 _YOU DON'T DESERVE TO LIVE._

 _..._

 _The Pack were packed off to their yard, most of them having their memories wiped of the last few moments. But the damage was done. With the exception of Ned who was a little bit simple to begin with, every single member of the Pack had been affected and shaken up by what they had seen._

 _The gate was soon transported across to the Other Railway, where it was dissected in an attempt to understand how to send people through it. It wasn't until 1999 that they figured it out fully. But they had time._

 _..._

 _"Shit."_

 _"What is it now, ye prick in sheep's clothing?!"_

 _"Nothing, I've just realized something. Left m'present for Jenny back at yon desk!"_

 _"Then hurry the feck up and get it!"_

 _"If ye insist, dear." Zero glanced over his shoulder. The rest of the Packards had banded together to go and see his daughter together. Every last stinking one of them, aside from his daughter. She might make a good investment one day, he thought as he headed in the direction of the airport._

 _The direction, but not the actual airport itself. Slipping behind the building, he waited for a second._

 _And then another._

 _"Where's the ka-"_

 _BOOM!_

 _The plane exploded into a million, tiny pieces as it prepared to turn around. As the security team rushed over in a vain attempt to put out the flames, Captain Zero headed off in the general direction of the nearby car._

 _Well. That was that._

 _..._

 _Later on, a young Miss Jenny would receive the remaining assets of the Packard family, which consisted of a small area on the Island of Sodor to live in, and a collection of mentally ill vehicles that everyone thought were hilarious. Technically, as it turned out, Bob the Builder was a rip-off of them. And thus, heart hardened and knowing not that her last surviving member of her family was currently living the high life elsewhere, she set about creating the Sodor Construction Company._

 _As for that surviving member?_

 _Well, he was busy with his own things. Like hunting down the last of the 'Old Ones' on orders of the Fat Director to create a being that would supposedly house this...Malevolence. And all the while, the chest talked to him, and told him some of his plans._

 _It needed, the Malignance told him, one thing to get out of the chest._

 _And that was the Malevolence destroyed._

 _And that began a job that would take Captain Zero somewhere between twenty and fifteen years to come to fruition._

 _But that is a story for another time._


	55. Episode 16: The Runaway Elephant

I am planning to deal with the 90's stuff in the next chapter and maybe the one after that! This episode is not one of my favourites, but it's nice to see the William Tell theme once more, and it's got some okay action in it! Also, regarding the storyline part of it. Everything that happens there is a callback to the first two seasons of the show, and to a few of the choices I made back then. Hope you enjoy!

 **AaronCottrell97:** :D

 **Reality Rejection Service** : He'll be popping up more and more as we entered the final half of the season.

 **Game-Watch:** He has watched pulpy adventure films before. Nothing good ever comes out of mysterious boxes that speak.

 **MattPrice01:** I'M TAKING THAT AS A COMPLIMENT. XD.

 **JD145:** No, they had personalities before, it was just the case that the banksmen's personalities and their own merged together horrifically.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** See, if you were in there you could slap some sense into them. But sadly, you are not. Those two goofs are going to have to work something out at some point.

 **UGX7:** Thank you! Also, yeah, it really does suck that the continuity in these season is so screwed.

 **Bronze Shield:** Yet. XD.

 **Australian Guest:** That they are! Today's forecast is DEATH.

 **Greatwestern1522:** You might have a bit to wait for the Star Tugs, but I can say that they will be back at some point.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

The engines on the Island of Sodor were excited because screw it if the engines aren't allowed to have negative emotions any more, no, positive emotions all the way! To quote a film that had yet to come out, conceal, don't feel! There was some shit going on, a new thing or whatever, okay, can I go now?

What do you mean I've literally only done three seconds of the episode!?

Fine. Let's go for the unabridged abridged version. A new park was being built. Why it was being built in the area where the Narrow Gauge engines worked when we have established before that they have practically been banished to the mountains (AKA, not a safe place for a park) is anyone's guess. I suspect the government was drinking a lot as it attempted to stop the mud-slinging regarding the rapidly approaching election.

Anyway, because there was rumours of a raise in pay for the lucky sods who ended up doing the most work, everyone was trying their hardest to get things working. The Pack hadn't been called in, as they had gotten lost in the forest and were now attempting to coax Byron from his oak tree related breakdown. Therefore, they had to do all the work. Digging foundations, dropping off supplies and so on.

But as per usual, there was that ONE engine who was not doing his job with a positive enough attitude.

I'll give you three guesses wh-It's Duncan. It's always Duncan. It's so obviously Duncan that you don't even need to read the synopsis beyond 'narrow gauge' to realize that he's the trouble maker.

"Get a move on, ye slowcoach arse!"

"Doesn't even make any sense." Muttered Rusty as Duncan stormed past the little diesel in a huff. Next, Duncan saw Skarloey.

"Yer so slow ye bore snails! I'll be home beforrrre ye!"

"Ohhhh boyo, you have no idea what kind of monster you are baiting here, so you are!" Skarloey hissed, barely able to contain his anger. It had been a long day, and having to deal with Rheneas yacking in his ear about everything and anything that he saw ("Oh look! ROCKS!") had left the red engine with a hair trigger temper.

As he returned with his trucks, he caught up with the little diesel at the new park station. Why the park needed a station I'll never know, not everything in life needs to be connected to the railway. Everyone was of the opinion that the Fat Controller was just addicted to randomly creating stations in spots no sane man would put them in.

"Ohhhhhh Rusty, that Duncan, see, he thinks he's fast! Only thing fast about him is his mouth, and even then that's more because he doesn't think through anything he says! He's just a bossy boiler!"

"Scathing comeback, Skarloey."

"Boyo, I've been insulting Duncan behind his back and to his face for…coming on ten years, I'm running out of creative things to say!"

"Better safe than fast."

"That's what his mother said, was it not!? HA! I made a funny!"

"…Sure. We'll say that you did." Rusty looked wearily at the clock. "It is…only twelve in the morning. This is what hell looks like right here."

Duncan puffed into the next station pumped up (He had stolen steroids the day before) and pleased with himself. "AH FINISHED FIRST!" he bragged to anyone who cared, or didn't, to hear.

Unfortuantely, the Fat Controller was the only one within hearing distance. "In that case, you brilliant person you-" Duncan felt as though he was being insulted her "-I've got another job for you."

"I'm ye man for that!" said Duncan in full James-mode.

"You are to collect the elephant on the siding and take it to the park."

Duncan nodded. "Yes sir, that makes sense!" And off he went.

Ten seconds later, he was back. "The WHAT?!"

"You heard me."

"Despite my best efforts, yes! What in the knickers of Maggie Smith do ye mean!?"

"You'll see. It's very important, so you must be very careful."

"ME!? Careful!? Tis my middle name!"

"I thought it was 'Oik'." Murmured the Fat Controller to no one in particular as Duncan moved off.

….

"OH IT'S ONLY A STATUE!"

Duncan sounded disappointed. He was so delusional that he imagined that in a fight between himself and an elephant, he would win, no question. The other engines knew that in reality what would happen is that the elephant would probably die. Just because it was choking on Duncan's half twitching corpse.

The stone elephant was, for some reason, vital for the park. The Fat Controller had been drinking a lot when he had suggested it.

"You must wait for the brakevan."

Duncan looked at the stationmaster with disgust. "PAH! Listen here ye wee Geordie shite, I can take on any ol'mountain nae problem! Ye go back to fiddling with ye pen, and I'll do the real work! I've pushed plenty of loads heavier than this all the time!"

"Yes, like, for instance, your bloated ego."

"ACK YE CAN STUFF YER FACE!"

"…Fine. We've got to be careful though."

And so they left without the brakevan. That sound you hear is a man named Reverend Awdry having heart palpitations in his grave.

….

Duncan, if you can imagine, was not careful. The first warning sign was when he took the elephant over a bridge with no railings or walls to prevent it from tumbling into the rushing waters below. Doing so also gave his driver and fireman heart-palpitations, so that added to the fun.

After blithely taking the elephant through a local TNT factory, a tar pit and a war-zone between two different factions of Norris's, Duncan finally began to approach the normal track again. "We'll show them how fast I am!" he whistled to people watching on the platform. "I'll deliver yon statue AND still finish first!"

"How about we focus on trying to finish at all?" groaned the driver. In response to this, Duncan did the engine equivalent of flipping the bird by speeding up as he crossed a set of points. He then began to rock and roll from side to side.

This, as you can imagine, was not boding well for anyone. So much so that the fireman decided to cut his losses and jumped off of Duncan and began to hitch-hike his way back home. This made him the smartest man in our story today, though to be fair, that is not a high bar to jump over.

As Duncan reached his top speed ,his driver woke up from his coma and began to worry about the many, MANY downward slopes he would have to face.

Just as he applied the brake, Duncan started to slide down. He went faster and faster and faster.

Cue the William Tell Overture.

As Duncan rocked, rolled and rattled his way down, screeching out some Scottish curses/pleas for mercy, the driver decided to end it all. Unfortunately, he had left his gun back at the house, and he was forced instead to endure the ride downhill like the rest of us: with trepidation and the sense that really, this had been the only proper way to end the day. People reacted to this as they did to Duncan, by blandly waving and hooting car horns with big fake smiles on their faces.

Stepford had nothing on Sodor, let me tell you now.

Suddenly, Willie trundled across the line on a blue tractor. "WATCHOUT!" screamed Duncan's driver so fast that it all became one word, and slammed on the brakes as best as he could.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAIEEOOOH!" screeched the Scottish Twit, as his brake lever came off in his driver's hand.

"Oh. Uh. Well. You are on your own buddy!" Duncan's driver executed a beautiful swan dive from the cab and landed at an awkward angle on his leg. He was still far happier than anyone else would have been, though.

"RUSTYHELPMEHELPMEOHGODSTOP!" Duncan barely had time to scream this out before he shot past the bewildered diesel.

"Slow down." They said, clearly being sarcastic.

"I CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN'T!" screamed Duncan back. "OH GOD HOW LONG DOES THIS LINE GO ON FOR?!"

The Elephant Park (Which we're calling it for some reason, I don't know, why don't we just go for Buffalo Park, or Horse Park, hell, why not Flowerpotmen Park, LET'S BE REALLY LOGICAL HERE) loomed ahead.

Someone applied the brakes, I don't care enough to say that the driver got back on, headcanon it away. It was too late anyroad, the elephant executed a cartwheel mid-air and landed with a loud splash in the lake. The unlucky frogman who had been down there was crushed to death in an instant.

In no time, the Fat Controller arrived, falling flat on his face only seven times in one two minute walk. He was cross. But then, when wasn't he?

"I told you to be careful! And you told me "DINNAE WORRY YERSELF SIRRRR, CAREFUL IS MAH MIDDLE NAME AND ALSO HAGGIS AND BAGPIPES. Kilts! THERE WERE KILTS!" or something to that effect." Duncan would have corrected this gross slander, but he was too busy dry retching into a nearby bucket. "You should have waited for the brake-van!"

"Sorry sa-BLEURGH!" groaned Duncan.

….

When the park was eventually opened, and everyone had been woken up by shoving a cattle prod in their faces, Duncan was in time to see it open. Surprisingly, the statue was still in it's position in the lake.

"Lots of people like the elephant in the lake." Said Lady Hatt, neglecting to mention that in this case, 'lots' equalled 'one person, whom is the mayor'.

"Well we've got to commemorate the day Duncan was a little shithead, haven't we?" muttered the Fat Controller.

"HOORAY FOR DUNCAN'S MISTAKE!" shouted Rusty and Skarloey as one. Elephant Park would no longer be known by that name, but was instead referred to by a variety of names. Duncan's Mistake, Duncan's Folly, That One Place Where Duncan Done Goofed and The Enchanted Glade (The latter by Peter Sam).

Duncan stayed remarkably quiet for the rest of the week out of embarrassment. Everyone was convinced that getting him to have another accident would do wonders for everyone's morale.  
….

"Hello stranger."

Edward looked up and offered a fleeting smile to Mavis, before staring back into his glass with the sort of practiced calm that greeted most people on the edge of sanity. "Hello, Mave. Want to join me?"

"I've got a few minutes here, then I've got to head back to take care of the nightmares on wheels. So, sorry, but no."

"Fair enough. …How are Bill and Ben, by the by?"

"Oh. You know."

"Maddening." The two engines said as one, before laughing for a moment.

"You know-" said Edward quietly "-I really do appreciate you setting up that statue of BoCo in the quarry. It means a lot to me and I'm sure that it would to him as well."

"It was nothing. Honestly I think it encourages the twins to get their arses into gear."

Edward chuckled. "Sounds about right. …You do a good job, you know. I'd do it myself but with everything going on at the moment, it's just…little difficult."

"Yeah, I heard about that. Apparently Duck threw Oliver out of the sheds and told him to steer clear if he wants to keep his dome in a secure place." Mavis rolled her eyes. "Honestly, it's getting really old."

"Yeah."

"Oh, reminds me, some news for you. I was listening to the foreman rant about something or other, and he mentioned something about a meeting in the town hall in a few weeks."

"Really?" Edward frowned. "I mean, it's not that unusual surely? I mean we're not Simpsons level of holding a meeting but at the same time-"

"It's not the fact that they're holding a meeting, thicko. It's more the subject. It's regarding some sort of…takeover? Does that mean anything to you?"

Edward's eyes seemed to flash. "It does. Right, thanks Mave. Duck and Toby should hear about this."

D1 smiled as Edward scurried off.

Things, he thought, were going fairly to plan.

….

 _THE PAST._

 _The eighties rolled around with the force of a freight train. Captain Zero spent less and less time in the Other Railway now, and was instead going out on missions to areas like Dream Street, or Flitterwick Harbour, or any of the other places where the so called 'old ones' lurked. There, he would kill them and return their corpses back to the docks to be examined._

 _At least, that was the excuse he told the Fat Director._

 _Instead, he had Reginald and the rest of his crew do the dirty work, while he headed off on his new vessel towards the Island of Sodor, armed only with an old chest and plenty of time on his hands._

 _That vessel? The first gift he had receieved from the remaining Mysterons. A paddleboat, once known as OJ, and now adorned with the nickname of Lakesider III. It was roomy and comfortable to live on, at least for someone used to living a rather stressful life like Zero was._

 _He arrived at Tidmouth Harbour and moored his boat not too far away from it. This being the sunny period of Sodor's life, the dock manager was not nearly as concerned about this as he should have been._

 _And there, he began to put his plan into motion._

 _A weather-beaten jotter had been bought at one of the ports on his way there. In it, he jotted down several musings and related plans, plans that were so complex and contradictory, that he had no doubt that should anyone find it from the Iron Circle (Of which he had been made aware of now), it would be taken as proof that the Malevolence was on the move. If he could get them to take out that creature, then it would save him a lot of trouble._

 _Next, he set about procuring himself a few uniforms. Namely those of a workman, and one of the many blue uniforms used by guards, drivers, firemen, porters and stationmasters. This was in case he needed a disguise, which he sorely did._

 _And then he began to look out for any signs of the Malevolence's agents on Sodor. He soon saw who he was looking for. Or rather, heard._

 ** _"ACH!_** **Scheiße** ** _ **!"** _**

_The engine that was known as Marklin soon became of particular interest to the Captain, and to the Malignance, as 1984 rolled in, bringing with it chaos and a group of documentary makers._

 _As he sat there and wrote away, the Malignance spoke up. "You should focus on the engines working here."_

 _"For what reason?"_

 _"Simple. Think about it, you run the risk of underestimating them if you don't see what it is you can learn from them. See their weak spots, their flaws, what buttons you can push and so on."_

 _"…Can't we just kill them? More specifically, yerself?"_

 _"This place drains me. My magic, my abilities, myself, everything grows blurry. No, this is something for you alone to deal with. And above all else, they have to survive. Unlike the Pack, there are one or two engines here whom I think we can reason with."_

 _Pondering this, Zero had taken a moment to take a little stroll down the road towards the level crossing. He stood there for a moment, watching as a rather fat man got out of his car, and went to get something to eat._

 _At which point, the number four engine ploughed his way through the car, without even stopping._

 _That, he noted, rather set the tone for his stay on this Island._

 _…._

 _Much as he was loathe to admit it, the Malignance was right, and not least because a quick check at the list mentioned specific engines that lived on the Island playing a part in future events. And as he couldn't be arsed to learn any of their names, he wasn't going to take chances._

 _His next encounter with one of the Island's incredibly odd and confusing engines came where he attempted to break into the Fat Controller's office in an attempt to gain some understanding of how the Island's finances were._

 _"Need a distraction." He murmured, and so, looking that way this, he bent down to uncouple the nearest train, before sneaking off and listening to the cries of shock from passengers and workers alike as a little blue tank engine went off hooting about how splendid and famous he was. While leaving the train behind._

 _Unfortunately, Hatt barged past him and knocked him onto the tracks. Quite frankly, the only reason that the number two engine didn't kill him was because he had appeared to have a brain._

 _After that, he was mostly stuck on trains for a bit, which usually ended up either breaking down (Requiring among other things, a bootlace to patch a hole, or a bus to save him in the middle of snow) or running into other technical issues (Losing the guard, or being sent on a loop line for what felt like forever). He also briefly assaulted a water tower at Elsbridge while drunk (He told the unimpressed thing in the chest that the water tower owed him money) and reluctantly put up an out of order sign, which apparently led to some fish going on an adventure straight to the Fat Man's belly._

 _All seemed well._

 _And then something happened that made Zero sit up and take notice._

 _…._

 _The Marklin engine had been the one engine that Zero had never been able to get much information on. He had gotten into quite the conversations with the Island's lunatics…or as they were known elsewhere, inhabitants, and received nothing from them about the origins of said engine._

 _And then the events that were to lead up to the infamous Strike of 84 began. And he watched as Marklin pulled the strings. He watched as Marklin whispered insults to the coaches to repeat to Numbers 3, 4 and 5 ("You're lazy and slack, you're lazy and slack!" were their favourite), and then offered up insults regarding their need for a turntable to push their tempers more and more._

 _Stranger still, was that as he attempted to nick something off one of the trucks at the sheds, he could quite clearly see Marklin and his crew tampering with one of the turntables, before hurrying off. A quick inspection showed that the tampering was potentially fatal._

 _He would have just left them to it, but he imagined that this was something that the Malignance would not be pleased with him with. Especially as…well, oddly enough, he hadn't actually killed anyone yet, which was intriguing._

 _His double tampering made the turntable a pain in the arse for two engines, once by jamming it, and the other for making it go much too fast, but as he told this to the Malignance, he detected a faint note of…admiration in his voice._

 _"Not a bad thing to be doing. I know that whatever this…Marklin fellow is doing, we should do the opposite. Keep this lot alive just to see what they can come up with."_

 _"If ye say so."_

 _"I do."_

 _…._

 _Marklin had attempted to use the chaos of the Island to make a final sweep of the area and determine whether or not the Lady was there. As such, he hadn't expected Zero to get into contact with Honest Jim, a member of the Other Railway's most recent attempts at cloning, to provide the Fat Controller with a selection of engines (Mostly failed experiments that would make the maddest of men sober in horror) to pick from to end the strike._

 _The fact that he chose a smart little green engine with small wheels was of no concern to Zero. The fact that Marklin began to withdraw himself and prepare for a retreat back to the Other Railway, however, was._

 _"What if he reports me?"_

 _"He will not have seen you, if you are careful. Besides which, this works out very well for us indeed."_

 _"Oh?"_

 _"He'll be desperate to get back on here and cause as much chaos as possible. He will slip up. He will make a mistake."_

 _"I sure as shit hope so."_

 _The ground shook._

 _"What was that?"_

 _That, as it turned out, was the sound of Number 3 hitting a conveniently placed goods train that had been intended by Marklin to kill him. A quick anonymous donation to Crewe via Zero, and yet another plan was thwarted._

 _And thus, things went relatively well. Save for him accidentally keeping an overzealous policeman up all night leading to the purchase of Toby, and then accidentally knocking a switch in the signalbox to leave a bunch of tar wagons open for someone to crash into, that is. Oh, and that one moment where he accidentally removing most of the supports for a mine, leaving one engine struggling helplessly in the dirt._

 _But apart from that, relatively well._

 _Eighty five was quiet. Only thirteen major accidents that year._

 _Then came eighty-six._

 _…._

 _He had taken a job as a safety inspector, for the most part. It gave him a bit of an insight on the engines and how they reacted. True, there had been some issues (Accidentally screwing up how much coal came out of a certain hopper for one, sending a perfectly good traction engine to the scrapyard for another because he was so pissed he couldn't see the wood for the trees), but for the most part, it had allowed him to get the measure of them._

 _And though he knew that they were all very stupid and incompetent, there was something in the way that the Malignance spoke of them and in how they acted that made him think maybe, just maybe, there was something that could be harnessed there._

 _And then one morning, he was loitering around the Tidmouth Sheds when he saw something move towards them. Something sleek, and black, and very, very different to what he was used to on this Island._

 _Dimly he heard the Fat Controller speak. "Here is Diesel, I have agreed to give him a trial. He needs to learn. Please teach him, Duck. Ah damn, I've got that shareholders meeting to go to!"_

 _ **"Good morning."** Purred the Diesel in the oiliest, slickest voice he could imagine **"Pleased to meet you, Duck."**_

 _Marklin, Zero thought grimly, and set off at once back towards the boat._

 _…._

 _"A…..diesel?" The Malignance sounded curious if not a little…angry. "He would take the face of the abominations I hear of on the mainland. And yet if this is the same engine, then how…?"_

 _"Yeah, an ugly looking arse too! He's pretty smart with his remarks, too."_

 _"You have…processes that can transform steam into diesel?"_

 _"To an extent. It's a pretty bloody poor process that we've been considering scaling up a bit, but most engines we get are desperate to avoid the scrapper's blade, and will take any port in a storm."_

 _"Disgraces!" shrieked the Malignance, and the world seemed to shake with his righteous anger. "The normal ones are bad enough, but those are just…just…PERVERSIONS of the order of everything! Perversions of perversions, creating more and more disgusting and horrifying ways of spreading their influence to all …. Kill him if you can. Get him off the Island, certainly."_

 _…._

 _"So you say that this here shows Diesel insulting the trucks?"_

 _"Yessir."_

 _"And it also shows him making rude remarks about my wife?"_

 _"Uh huh."_

 _"And that it also shows him making plans to murder Duck in an incredibly over the top barber shop accident?"_

 _"That is true."_

 _"And also that he was planning on inciting a truck civil war that could potentially wipe most of the steam engines off the Island?"_

 _"Indeed."_

 _"And you found this in a drawer he had in his sheds marked 'EVIL PLANS, PLEASE DO NOT LOOK UNLESS YOUR NAME IS DIESEL/MARKLIN, TA VERY MUCH' and was billowing black evil smoke?"_

 _"Those are the facts."_

 _"….And you are-?"_

 _"Billy. From Maintenance."_

 _"…Are you sure?"_

 _"Yep!"_

 _"….Sounds legit, okay, now-"_

 _"I also took the liberty of getting the vicar to preform some weird kind of exorcism, because he's actually a ghost from one of the engines who used to work on your railway, and uh, basically you should get on that right away because Duck is going to die."_

 _The Fat Controller was drunk, so this all sounded logical to him. And, well, you know how the story goes._

 _….._

 _Several incidents ended up happening before the year was out to make Zero decide to return to the Other Railway for the time being. Namely this involved him sending a spiteful brakevan to his…sorta death (Which was actually deliberate, but no one knew that), fiddling with the controls of Thomas and causing him to destroy the stationmaster's breakfast (And house), accidentally screwing up the points system (Sending Edward onto the main line and Gordon onto the branch) and dropping a crate of treacle on the head of the idiot named Percy. And in-between that, he was making sure that the bombs dropped off were removed, and that the various operatives sent to assassinate others failed._

 _But all that aside, by the time Christmas rolled around and Diesel had left the Island once more, Zero was left to think things through._

 _"If I were you-" said the Malignance as he sat there "-I would return home now so as to make this report to your master. That way he will not overtly suspect anything of you."_

 _"There is merit in what ye say." Zero acknowledged gruffly. "I gather that Marklin's arrival here will mean the days of easy living are…well, over to an extent."_

 _"The engines here will definitely interact with the Other Railway more now, given that they have been made aware that there are, pardon the play on words, malevolent forces at work here." The Malignance made a sound like the clicking of his tongue. "I wonder…is there any way to keep both sides busy while we make sure that my return is….achieveable?"_

 _Zero thought for a moment, and was about to suggest that they merely waited to see how long the Malevolence would take to be reborn…when his eyes caught sight of a book on the shelf. The letters MoD clearly stood out._

 _"Actually, ye might be in luck on that score. I've got a few old mateys I need to catch up on." He checked his list, and grinned wolfishly. "And wouldn't ye know it, tis the first election in decades soon."_

 _He opened the door of Lakesider III._

 _And stared into the eyes of the Clown._

 _"Oh. Oh." He attempted to say something funny. He failed. "Oh."_

 _"Ah, so you know each other." The Malignance appeared to be smiling. "This is my servant, Captain. Now, shake hands, because you're going to be seeing a lot of each other in the coming years."_

 _"Oh. Goodie."_


	56. Episode 17: Peace and Quiet

As you can probably tell, the stuff with the nineties is a lot harder to deal with than the eighties, given that this was the point where a lot of the plot started really moving. Hence I'm being a bit more coy with it than the last time, especially seeing as Zero took a big step forward in Season 5 and did more stuff there. Needless to say though, as the story goes on, I'll go into more detail regarding any events that may have happened there. Next time, we deal with stuff from the Magic Railroad, and the Malignance finally makes a move.

Oh, uh, the episode. Murdoch is okay? I guess? Hope you don't mind what I've done with the character, he just was quite boring to write without coming up with some other take on him.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Eh, that's fair. One of the last proper chase scenes in the Classic Series!

 **Reality Rejection Service** : What I had intended to get across with the general stuff that you've been seeing in the past chapter, and to a lesser extent this one, is that Zero is very much trying to balance out the two sides he's working with. The idea I came up with was that he's incompetent in certain respects, he's not a railway man first and foremost like the Director, he's a sailor and a crook. So even his attempts to help have been doomed to injure the engines. Secondly, as mentioned with the turntable stuff, he's trying his best to foil some of the plans that the Malevolence and the Other Railway came up with. He's just doing so in a cack handed way because he's a dick. The Malignance has power TO an extent, but at the same time, he's still trapped and can't do things the way he would like it to, honestly he'd get things done with no one getting hurt if he could. Hope that clears that up, at least.

 **Game-Watch:** Not ALL of it, but certainly a fair deal. I didn't want to get rid of much of the comedy from that time.

 **MattPrice01:** The full story of the Norrises will be told one day! A lot of stuff is getting explained by this story, hopefully I'm papering over the cracks in the story well enough for your liking!

 **JD145:** Yeah, pretty much. Narrow Gauge stuff stops being competent after this season.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** I have! They are very good, a lot of fun, feels like a really nice mix of original and old stuff, definitely something I watch whenever a new one comes up!

 **UGX7:** A very apt comparison. Or, if you add time travel to it, Church from RvB.

 **Bronze Shield:** Pretty much, yeah. :/

 **Hughie96:** Ta mate! Yeah, the show isn't BAD (A bad episode of Classic Thomas is still miles more watchable than some other shows), at this point, but at the same time, you can clearly tell this is a transition season, and the two halves just sort of bump against each other and make things real awkward. Thing about the Malevolence is, and I may have mentioned this before, Season 8 and 9 is when we really start to explore just what the hell his deal is.

 **jsw:** You'll just have to see.

CUE THE THEME

* * *

"Hurry up, I'm a busy engine!" chuffed Henry, who had somehow managed to travel back in time to Season 4 as he spoke.

With the most undignified slamming on of brakes, Thomas delivered the last of the vans for the Flying Kipper into Henry's train with no small amount of force. The green engine yelped and glared at the unapologetic tank engine.

As he started off, he wondered vaguely why it was that the Flying Kipper was so cursed. Had there not been enough fish for a local witch, angering her to the point of putting a dark and evil pox upon the train and all those who pulled it (I.E, him and ONLY him) forever?

If so, she had done her job well. Throughout the night, the Flying Kipper and it's hapless engine experienced, in this order:

-A freak snowstorm (Freak as in it wasn't even hinted at before, one moment it had been a clear night, the next it was throwing down large chunks of ice)  
-A seagull getting sucked in by a stray gust of wind and landing in his fire, sending the green engine into a panic attack, which lead to-  
-Henry accelerating rather more rapidly down Gordon's hill than he had intended, launching him off the rails, through several trees and then mercifully landing back on the rails with all vans following, which THEN lead to-  
-A very harsh application of the brakes, resulting in every van splintering into pieces and the brakevan sailing through the air and into a nearby field.  
-Goats had somehow managed to get into the vans while going through the wood and had eaten all the fish.  
-A piano then dropped from the sky and sent Henry off to the land of Cussion, first name Con.

"DON'T EVEN START!" he screamed as he was pulled past the rest of the engines.

The result of which was that Henry was out for a few weeks, meaning that the floor had to be opened up for a new goods engine to take over the running of the main line for the time being.

Which is where merchandising- I mean, our story, begins.

….

Goods were arriving night and day at the docks. They ranged from the understandable (Coal, equipment for mines) to the odd (An inflatable waterbed for the Hatts, T-Shirts with the words 'I Had My Business and My Livelihood Ruined By An Engine Crashing Through and All I Got Was This Shirt' written upon it) to the impractical (Whoever ordered a reverse snowplough and didn't expect the engines to get cut open by the pointy end was an idiot).

And sometimes, dealing with all that hard work makes the axles ache.

When they can be arsed to do hard work, which is about once every two to three months, on a blue moon, when the tides aren't about to crush the Island.

Thus, when the new engine arrived, people weren't expecting the Island to practically shake when he touched wheels down on the ground. But it did. He was long and had ten drive wheels, and had a face that looked like it had been in one or twenty fights.

"Ruddy hell, it says here you're supposed to be a different colour!" Sir Topham shrugged. "Ah well, at least you're in good spirits, eh?"

"I have seen some shit, sir."

"…Well, that's….that's very good. Er, everyone, this is Murdoch, everyone. I'd advise you to make him feel welcome, and also not to shoot any guns around him, he's apparently a bit of….he's….okay, I don't know the correct term for it, but he tends to go a little berserk if someone shoots at him. No one wants that, do they?"

Everyone looked at Murdoch. At his wheels. At his rather large buffers. Collectively, as a whole, they all shook their heads. Er…faces. Whatever they had.

"AHOY MURDOCH!" said Salty, who feared nothing.

"Welcome, Murrrrdoch!" said Harvey, who feared everything but mostly being a social outcast.

"You're the biggest engine I've ever seen!" cried Thomas, who feared not getting the last word.

"You're a chatty lot. Is it too late to go back to Broadmoor?" murmured Murdoch, and went off to start work on the freight.

"He's joking, right?" murmured Thomas to no one in particular.

"Do you want to find out?" hissed Toby. "He could literaelly eat you for breakfast!"

"Ha! Him?"

"Yes. Me." Said Murdoch, looming over the tank engine. Toby retreated quickly, and Thomas was left to very politely explain to Murdoch that he was referring to some other engine called Murdoch and that no, he wasn't interested in having his teeth moved to the back of his throat, ta for asking.

Then he was coupled up to a long line of trucks, and started off as easy as pie. He longed for some peace, quiet and maybe a nice drink of something strong.

He could get one of those things if he was lucky. And on that day, he was not, for the coaling plant had recently closed down their bar because of two certain Scottish twins. Not that this had stopped the twins from finding alcohol in the plant…somehow.

"OCH AYE! THE NOO!" slurred Douglas as he moved forward and smacked his head against a low hanging pipe. By the time he was finished, Murdoch felt much the same way and couldn't wait to go to the shed and sleep off his troubles.

Alternatively, if he figured out how not to get caught, to beat his troubles out of his system and into the face of some very punchable sod, of which there were many on the Island.

…..

"Arthur, why the hell do I have ta look at what is basically yer arse all night?"

"I can move if you want."

"Yeah, ye do that. Still, it's a damn sight nicer than that twit Thomas's."

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH REALLY?!" Thomas's face was covered with large veins that popped up in rage at this statement, and he left before he could show Emily the true extent of his complicated feelings. Or, more likely, before Emily could beat the crap out of him and then give him a motherly lecture.

Murdoch arrived as the enraged tank engine left and slid into place alongside Captain Pugwash and the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Three guesses who those two are. They were full of questions, and questions were not something that Murdoch enjoyed dealing with. Unless the question was "Would you like one lump or two?" in which chase it made for a really badass comeback when he started beating lumps out of them.

"What'scht the longechest train ye've ever pulled?" slurred Harvey. He had been drinking significantly, the legacy of Donald and Douglas was still strong on the Island.

"Have ye ever been to Marseilles, laddie?! I've got a lass there. A few lassies. Not as many as Polly though, eh, Polly?"

"MRAWK! PIECES OF EIGHT! PIECES OF EIGHT! WANNA CRACKER!"

"'Ave ye ever crashed?!"

"Depends on whether you mean myself, or other pe-Wait, stop, stop, STOP. Please. Lads. Let me put this in as POLITE as terms as I can. I want to actually get to sleep tonight and the worst thing of it all is that I have to share a shed with such shitty chatterboxes like yourself, so please, let me just sod off to the land of nod when I'm here!"

"No need to be rude!"

"Strewth, just being friendly, matey!"

"And your accent just changed! It was a pirate's a moment ago, now it sounds vaguely Australian in nature!"

"Ayeeeee mon, whatchoo talking about?" said Salty, he of the shifting accents.

Murdoch harrumphed, and gave up.

…..

The next morning, after leaving before Salty and Harvey could passively aggressively try and force him to talk, Murdoch collected another long train of trucks from the dock and started off towards wherever it was he was supposed to drop them off at. As he passed through Ballahoo Tunnel, he reflected on how great it was to be completely on his own.

Aside from his driver and fireman, of course, but they were basically just ragdolls in fancy uniforms at this point.

"Oh I think I was there a while back! Hmm…yeah, looks like the renovations I did are still holding up!" He said as he passed by the ruins of an old castle. Fond memories all around.

And then there was trouble. The bubble burst as the driver applied the brakes at the sight of sheep on the line.

"Oh goodie!" said Murdoch. "Lunch!" He was just about to bite the nearest one's head off when his fireman rapped him on the boiler.

"No! Bad Murdoch! This is why we got sent here! You can't just eat sheep while they are still alive! It's inhumane!"

"Good thing I'm not human then!" said Murdoch, who was rather hungry after having to listen to Salty and Harvey all night.

"The sheep escaped from that field!" said the driver. He was fitting in with Sodor already, having made the first step of saying the most obvious things on the planet rather easily. "Through that broken fence!"

So pleased was he that he was now two for two in the obvious statement department, he dopily got out and attempted to grab the sheep. Where I won't say. The sheep were very distressed, though, and proceeded to maul him. This lead the fireman to get out and assist him. They chased them this way, and then that way. They tried everything….but life is too short for us to waste time on me recounting how shitty their efforts were, and besides, who the hell actually cares anyway?

Eventually, the two men realized that scaring the sheep wasn't working, and that they were probably going to die from all the diseases that they had accumulated.

"I'll go and phone for help!" said the driver. For the sheep or for himself, only he knew that. He staggered off, trying to ignore the large lumps on his head and the sense that he was leaving something important behind.

As the sheep gnawed on the driver's left leg, Murdoch was left to beg them, futilely, to bugger off. It didn't help that he was fairly sure that one of the sheep was just Michael Angelis going "Mehhhhhhhh" in order to blend in. The sheep were spoiling his peace and quiet.

…..

As he enjoyed afternoon tea, the Fat Controller was fairly certain that things would go well.

Then the phone rang.

"SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP?!" he bellowed in such a tone that indicated that he had never heard of the word before. "Oh you're shitting me! This is…okay, okay, right, I getcha. I'll send Toby to deal with it with the farmer, now please, SOD OFF!" Hatt slammed the phone down and passed out onto a large pile of sticky buns. Ah well, he thought as he began to sink into the cream, at least if I drown I'll go out as I've always wanted.

The sheep were getting rowdy now. Some of them had even started mating. It was not a pleasant sight, certainly not for Murdoch. "I'd rather be back with those two chatterboxes…who were they? Hook and Smee? Oh, hang on, here comes a shed!"

"Oh, funny, a square joke, how original, you want help or not?" snapped Toby.

"Toby! We're certainly glad to see you!"

"….I haven't introduced myself to you yet." Toby said, eyes narrowing. Murdoch stammered and tried to think of a way out of things. Luckily, the sheep went for Toby's chin, and so everyone moved on.

Before long, the farmer had shoved the sheep back into the field, and the dog was dealing with matters fine enough. Murdoch hurried on his way, deciding that this episode was already getting to the point of madness, and he wanted no further part in it.

…..

And that night, as he returned to the sheds, he watched as Arthur and Emily reclined in a far more mutually respectful position, and as Salty and Harvey both braced themselves for an onslaught. But he spoke first. "I'm sorry I was so rude, I guess, I am honoured to share a shed with you, sure we'll go with that."

"And we're pleased to have your company!" said Harvey.

"Arrr, we are!" said Salty. "Now that reminds me of a story-"

Neither engine noticed the massive as all hell cuecards that his fireman and driver were holding up. Murdoch sighed. At the very least, Salty's story would send him to sleep post-haste.

Such a heartwarming story. So it's almost not worth mentioning that, as the others went to sleep, Murdoch and Arthur locked eyes with each other.

Murdoch mouthed a few words to Arthur.

"I've seen him."

Arthur looked to the sleeping Emily, then mouthed back. "I have too."

"When do you want to get the others?"

"….Not now. Soon, though."

"…Does he know?"

"No. Let's keep it that way."

And as for what THAT means, well that, once again, is another story.

 _…._

 _THE PAST._

 _"Wakey wakey, mate!"_

 _Drampf groaned and lifted himself up. The various porn stars he had draped himself with had long since left, taking the cash and most of his usable pants with them. He blinked blearily, his badly tanned skin making him look like a dried out tangerine. "What? …You!"_

 _"Me." Zero said, cheerfully as he could. He had had a long….long chat with the Malignance and the Clown (Well, the latter had done nothing but grin, but still) and was thus looking to burn off some excess tension._

 _What was the talk about? Oh please, you've got to let us spare some twists for the next three seasons!_

 _Drampf stared at Zero, then reached out his tiny piggy hands to grab hold of a pair of glasses. "What do you want?"_

 _"Simple, Drampf. Unless ye want me to tell everyone about yer little cowardice back in the war, yer going to do what I say."_

 _"….Jeez, fine! What?"_

 _"I want ye…to run for mayor when the time comes." Zero smiled cheerfully, and tried to restrain a snicker at the sight of Drampf's slack-jawed amazement. "Hang on, that's not all I'm looking at."_

 _….._

"So...why Drampf?"

"Oh, it seems odd at the time, I know. But Captain Zero wanted someone in the Mayor's office who could feasibly report back to him. Start making some changes. Perhaps accelerate the production of more diesels, or make it so that every steam engine on the Island could disappear for a bit. I most certainly DID not want that, or rather, the Malignance didn't. Hence why I chose him. The worst possible candidate. ...How was I supposed to know that everyone on that Island is a racist bigot in sheep's clothing!? It's like the Producers, I wanted everything to go wrong, but instead, everything went RIGHT!"

Captain Zero paused for breath. He looked at his son, who looked back at him in a strange mixture of confusion and interest.

"And then what happened?"

Zero paused, and then rubbed his head. "The next few years are a blur. I'll try my best, but a lot of the details…they start to fall apart here." He sighed. "It was around that point that I started getting aware of these things called time portals. Use them, or be in the same area as one, for too long and your head starts to ache a lot."

 _….._

 _1989._

 _"What is it-" asked Zero one day, to the Malignance "-that stops us from killing yon steam engines completely?"_

 _"…It is, perhaps, a bit of a foolish idea. Yet here is the truth, Zero. Neither of us wants the Malevolence to take control, correct? Now, the fact of the matter is that this lost engine is no longer on the Island. And your attempts to find her have dragged up nothing, nor will the rest of the Other Railway. Because what they're focused on is the idea of wiping it all out."_

 _"Ohhhhhkay, that doesn't answer me question, but-"_

 _"So to find the lost engine, we must have a different perspective. One who is a little bit simpler than you or I. And these engines, so complex in many ways, are simple in brain at least. Thus far they have stumbled across umpteen buried civilizations, several lost towns and have discovered so many secrets of this once great Island that it is honestly not shocking any more that they have no idea how much of a big deal it is. If anyone can find her, and thus stop the Malevolence, it's them."_

 _"….But all of them?"_

 _"All of them. I have forseen it."_

 _"Sure. Right. Whatever." Zero stood up, stretched himself out and yawned. "Right, well, I'm going to head off now and do…things."_

 _"If you are attempting to kill that Captain Starr fellow again, I would strongly urge against it."_

 _"Is that an order, sir?"_

 _"No. A suggestion."_

 _"Right. Well I'm just going to go and ignore that suggestion, then!"_

 _Zero returned five hours later, bleeding significantly from his right leg, dripping wet and very, very angry. He didn't tell anyone or anything what happened when he found Starr, not even to John himself._

 _The one thing he did tell people, though, when he was sufficiently drunk enough, was that the last he ever saw of the man formerly in charge of the Star Tugs before his death in 2005 was a mocking, amused grin on an old man's face, happy and content._

 _Zero pitied him, he truly did._

 _Yes. That was what he felt._

 _Right?_

 _…_

 _1991._

 _"We have an issue, sir."_

 _The Fat Director looked to Zero. "We have plenty of issues, Zero. What we don't have are solutions. And what particular issue are we having today?"_

 _"….The escape last night."_

 _"Ah yes. ..How many did we lose?"_

 _"Most of them have been taken to the Iron Circle's headquarters. Some were killed as they were leaving. We havenae been able to getour assets. And that's before all that junk about you conversion process gets revealed. We….may have to consider shutting that down, or at the very least, start considering mass-clone production."_

 _The Fat Director closed his eyes. "But?"_

 _"But it…somehow gets worse than that." Zero made sure he was close to the door. He was aware that saying anything bad now would result in him, at best, getting knocked out. He at least wanted to be close to the outside before he got knocked out. "We have six engines unaccounted for. …Six, and one brakevan. Not on the Other Railway. Not in the Iron Circle's custody. Not dead."_

 _Zero wasn't sure what happened next. And he couldn't ask the Fat Director, right? He was lying somewhere, kept alive by machine solely so that he did not reassert control over his company._

 _So he just moved ahead with the story. Who cared about a few plot holes?_

 _In retrospect, thinking about them a lot more might have told him something about what was happening._

 _….._

 _The Stepney situation was on the mind of Zero throughout most of the year, and the one following that. There were a few schemes he managed to avert, through accidents more than anything. By now, it was becoming clear that the Other Railway was no longer playing around, and that a full scale invasion was on the horizon, at some point._

 _So while he was able to handle a few things (Such as 'accidentally' removing six bomb filled tenders and replacing them with six boiler sludge filled ones, and also at some point just 'happening' to walk by with a chain when Toby was hanging for dear life off a bridge), he mostly kept to himself._

 _And also occasionally screwed things up for the Island even more, such as causing a mining disaster when what he had assumed was a Other Railway spy entered the quarry, only for it to be just a really, really ugly man. Or that brief moment where he ended up dropping a bee hive to the ground and causing mass hysteria._

 _To be fair, though, it was very funny at the time._

 _"We've hit a crisis point." He informed the Malignance. "I cannae keep coming up with yon crappy excuses for my behaviour. Tis time ye either put up or shut up."_

 _The Malignance considered this for a moment. "Would it be…helpful, if I perhaps established a way for you to continue staying on the Island, while at the same time assisting your boss and company?"_

 _"…It would. How, though?"_

 _"I have been gaining information from your quarters while you have been off galivanting around doing an, admittedly, fairly decent job of stopping the eradication of the world. There is information regarding the existence of an old narrow gauge engine that you have, kept in your Other Railway as a prisoner/bargaining chip."_

 _"Aye. Ivo Hugh." Zero frowned. "Wait, so-?"_

 _"When this….television crew arrives back, they will no doubt need a guide of sorts. You will be in a good position not only to keep an eye on their movements, but the movements of the rest of the Island."_

 _"That…is true. But the Thin Controller is apparently a real arse, he'll recognize that Ivo Hugh's a wee bit conspicuous."_

 _"That-" said the Malignance with a level of careful confidence "-will not be a problem. You told me that this man…Gotch, was it, has been using some sort of magic to kill off certain people, like the vicar. It would not, perhaps, be entirely unlikely that you could persuade him to remove the…rather badly named Thin Controller from the picture. Maybe just shove him onto the tracks when a passing diesel comes his way. From what little I have gathered from the reports you tell me, the man in charge of the main railway will have to take control of the Narrow Gauge railway too."_

 _This made a degree of sense. Zero nodded, and kept that in mind until he told the Fat Director his idea. In a rare, but still rather scary move, he was complimented on this diea by the stout gentleman. And so it came to pass._

 _He took some of his own liberties too, contacting the replacement for the vicar and his friend in the bobble-hat and bringing attention to the fate of the Mid-Sodor Railway and Duke in particular. Likewise, he quickly snuck Ivo Hugh onto the railway and had the Malignance pull the same trick he had on Nigel to make him appear the same as an engine recently removed from active service due to being as flat as a pancake in the personality department._

 _And then there was the election. There were several parties that were to be entered into the political race, but he wasn't concerned._

 _….._

 _DECEMBER, 1993._

 _With a weary sigh, the Captain, P.T Boomer and Marklin made their way through the large labyrinth of tunnels underneath Sodor. There were some that lead to the quarries, to the docks, to the countryside, but the one they were following lead to a smaller cave._

 _There, they saw the electrical engine._

 _"No! NO NO NO! BACK OFF!" Davidson hissed, his bufferbeam and the rest of him crackling with a blue light. Zero raised his hands, but before he could start, Marklin raced forward and glared at him._

 _ **"He is pathetic**!" he spat. **"You would use him?"**_

 _"The thing with the Island-" Boomer growled to no one in particular "-is that there is no one who pays attention to the runts of the litter!" Davidson hissed at this, but Boomer paid no heed. "He's a good choice."_

 _"Thanks for the thrilling endorsement." Zero walked forward and scowled. "All right, Davidson? Ye've not turned into a lassie since I saw ye last?"_

 _"You…You left me to die!" Davidson shrieked, blue sparks flying off. "You cut me loose, and you lied to me!"_

 _"I did. But ye were with the government. Do ye expect me to apologize?"_

 _"I should kill you all where you stand!"_

 _"And miss out on a perfect chance to get revenge on this Island? On the Ministry for making ye look a fool!" Zero bent down. "And besides which, ye owe me for hiding those bodies, remember?"_

 _Davidson hesitated for a moment._

 _It was his biggest, and most fatal, of mistakes._

 _….._

 _It was a while later, when the announcements were first being made, that he met Drampf's son. Jasper was sitting rather far aware from his father, giving a look that could best be described as 'this is really happening, dear god', that Zero could at the very least understand._

 _"Ye dad's got quite the fanbase."_

 _"You mean he has gits supporting his every word."_

 _"Tomayto, tomahto, I guess."_

 _The two of them watched as Drampf made his overly long speech that critiqued everything and anything that didn't fit the white middle class stereotype. Jasper, by contrast, seemed reticent, which was intriguing. Zero had known plenty of politician's children before, and yet this one was remarkably different._

 _"What do ye do for a living?" he asked, casually._

 _"Nothing much. I was thinking of working alongside my dad, maybe try and limit things, but-"_

 _"Listen, I've got a wee idea. I work with ye Dad, informally. Ye get anything that could…ye know, scupper us, ye send it to me."_

 _"And why should I trust you?"_

 _Zero was about to respond, when a certain blue tank engine burst onto the stage. His mouth dropped and he joined the rest of the crowd in screaming out a massive "WHAT?!"_

 _….._

 _The next few months were busy with the travelling back and forth along the Narrow Gauge railway, and occasionally taking the 'Stunt Double' to get news and bring it back to either one of his benefactors._

 _So it was quite a surprise when Jasper Drampf arrived, a few days after rumours that Edward the Blue Engine had suffered a complete meltdown over the campaign of Thomas, to the paddleboat with a tape._

 _"This-" he said with little preamble "-is going to be airing on every channel. On a loop for one hour, if they can. They've got a few pirates on there."_

 _"Oh I know a great deal about pirates. Give it here."_

 _Zero watched the tape._

 _And then rewound it._

 _And then watched it again._

 _"Well?"_

 _"Jasper-" said Zero, in a slow, deliberate kind of way "-get rid of it. Now."_

 _He never did learn why Jasper hadn't. Or why he had handed the tape back over his father, who had played it on national TV. The death of several of Edward's friends at the hands of Nazis was the most potent Pro-Thomas piece of media that could have been constructed outside of Drampf maybe using the United Kingdom flag to wipe his own arse._

 _..._

 _He tried to cut his losses the next day. It didn't work._

 _"I'll tell everyone!"_

 _Zero paused, and looked at Drampf in confusion. "What?"_

 _"I'll tell them about all the things that you've done! All the deplorables I've pissed off will have a whole new target for their hatred! The Other Railway and it's mess will have to deal with all sorts of problems. My pal Russia. CHina-" And now that's not a misprint, he said it like that "-Hell, MI6 will be very interested in what's going on."_

 _"...What do you want from me?"_

 _"Money. Enough to get me off this Island. Something's going to happen. Something big."_

 _"...Sure."_

 _He had no intention of letting him go, of course. But he had to think things through._

 _….._

 _The Malignance winced in agony. "Something…is amiss." He croaked. Zero glanced outside, and watched as Gordon thundered along the track, looking like the Chinese New Year had thrown up over him._

 _"It's just the queen. Ye not bothered about the vibrations?"_

 _"Something…else….a time portal is opening…but it's too soon." The Malignance's hissed out in sudden shock. "No…no, not too soon! …It's starting! My escape is at hand! Just…need a bit more time."_

 _"…Ye think we should escalate plans?"_

 _"I think that it would be a good idea to start cutting some of those loose ends you appear to have. And then I'd suggest you consider taking up office on your Other Railway. Because I don't want your Director doing such a lacklustre job on my behalf as he is on the Malevolence's."_

 _"…Ye make an excellent point."_

 _…._

 _And so he did. Firstly, he made sure that Hargreaves, by now having risen to the ranks of a group unofficially known mockingly as U.Z.Z (Initials supposedly meaning the Aztec words Umbo Zim Zam, whatever that meant) was supplied with a small amount of information that incriminated someone no one would miss. Someone like Gotch, for instance. Someone who they could flip could the time come. Alternatively, someone could go and kill him, wiping out the only agency willing to go to war with the Other Railway should the time call for it._

 _Then he made his way over to the shunting yard, donning for the last time, or so he hoped, the uniform of a workman._

 _"Hey Edward! Yon tender's being used for a prank! It'll be real messy, the real one's back over there!"_

 _Edward rolled his eyes. "Oh, of course. Thanks mate, appreciate it!"_

 _"No prob." Zero grinned._

 _Drampf had officially become a source of embarrassment for Zero. It was time to get rid of him, for once and for all. So he found a nearby shunter, and checking his list once more, chose an old barge that he imagined Drampf would be taking as soon as he attempted his 'escape'._

 _..._

 _The fact that, on the whole, the Drampf experiment had been a failure was of no consequence to Zero. As he watched the barge drift outwards, and then watched with joy as the bomb that the idiotic man had put in the tender exploded, taking what could have been Sodor's next Mayor with it, he vaguely thought about how distracted the Fat Director was going to be._

 _Then the rest of the Island blew up, which was, to put it mildly, a big surprise. It also removed two pieces from the board. Davidson, of course, spoke for himself. The faulty and downright malfunctioning steam engines turned diesels were mostly killed in the blasts that rocked the Other Railway. That HAD been expected. He had, after all, sent Davidson there to be fixed up good and proper, and he had expected that a small cache of munitions had been kept around even after the stuff with the MoD had fizzled out._

 _That, then, was what the naval tramper Krakatoa had been like, going up._

 _It was pretty._

 _There were things to be dealt with, of course. He quickly took charge of a group that reconstructed an old generator into a steam engine again (Having lost Ivo Hugh, they needed some way of keeping a Narrow Gauge engine on the Island to spy for them), and then made sure that the Iron Circle member closest to spilling something was dealt with by the Juggernaut._

 _Drampf was right in one respect, though._

 _Something big WAS coming._

 _….._

 _The Captain then talked a great deal about his involvement in events around about the year 1998, and his trip back in time. But we have already mentioned these events previously, so we shall skip ahead, as he did eventually._

 _To that one fateful night, the night the Malevolence fell…and the Malignance began to rise._


	57. Episode 18: Fergus Breaks the Rule

Here we go, something I am a lot more familiar with now! All of the stuff in the backstory takes place in the Magic Railroad section, in case you couldn't tell, and though the stuff with the chest wasn't alluded to, a lot of the events shown here were things that were either throwaway moments back there or were left hanging until now. We're hitting the endgame, lads, and said endgame is the reveal of just what it is that the Malignance is going to be doing, and how Zero's plan in the present day comes to shape, given that the last lot of chapters will take place over the course of the gap from Magic Railroad, leading all the way up to Season 6, where the framing device with John and Zero comes from.

On an unrelated note, it's my birthday tomorrow, so here's a gift to you from me!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Uh huh.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : He plays a very, very dangerous game indeed. We know it works out for the moment, but he doesn't, he's just being a pretty big maniac about it.

 **Game-Watch:** Well I'd better not disappoint then! :D

 **MattPrice01:** I had a LOT of fun writing it, and it's something I am going to try and keep moving into the more repetitive years. One day you shall hear the story. One day.

 **JD145:** You will get there! At some point!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Thank you!

 **UGX7:** Yeah, agreed, but at the very least, Arthur could occasionally get the odd segment in the Nick Jr airings, and he got his own little section of line to run, whereas Murdoch suffers a fair bit by comparison. After thinking about it, he really isn't a bad character, someone I'd like to see back if the whole...BWBA situation gets better.

 **Bronze Shield:** His design is pretty neat, I'll grant you.

 **GreatWestern1522:** Ask and ye shall receive!

 **Guest:** Hopefully that calms down a little after this chapter, it'll be mostly new material explaining why it is that the Malignance requires the lanterns and so on.

CUE THE THEME

* * *

Thomas and Fergus the Traction Engine are friends.

And that's about all you need to know, cue the backsto- What? There's still four more minutes? Eh, I tried.

All right, friends was a bit of an exaggeration.

…..

ONE WEEK AGO.

"Ello ello ello! What's this 'ere?!"

"This ear? It's not an ear, it's my buffer. You've got eyes, haven't yo-OUCH!" Thomas would have rubbed his forehead had he arms. Fergus's truncheon retracted as with a menacing scowl, he advanced.

"You know bloody well what I meant, sunshine! WHY ARE YOU PARKING HERE?!"

"It's a free siding, jackarse!"

"Ah ha! Mockery of the police is a serious offence, you know!"

"Then arrest the whole Island, because I'm the rule, not the exception."

"When I have handcuffs big enough, I shall! Either way, move your arse in that-a direction, bucko!"

"Make me!"

Thomas was promptly beaten out of the siding by a bunch of rambunctious workmen who didn't want Fergus to hold up work anymore than he had already.

…..

TWO DAYS LATER.

"YOU HORRIBLE ENGINE! You know that this platform is for red express coaches only!"

"That's….not a rule, Fergus."

"OH ISN'T IT, NOW?!"

Thomas nodded and turned to the wall to confirm it. He then did a double take as he noticed the new notice hammered in with some force. 'RED EXPRESS COACHES AT THIS PLATFORM ONLY, PLEASE. AND NOW, BEFORE YOU START ON ME, NO I'M NOT BEING RACIST, I'M BEING PRACTICAL'.

"Bloody pig."

"Sunny-boy, you're in for a world of trouble if you keep mouthing off to me like that!"

"Oh yeah, what are you going to do? Throw me in ENGINE JAIL!?"

"So what are you in for?" asked Thomas, ten minutes later, to a rather disgruntled Toby, as the key was turned in the lock of 'engine jail'.

"Apparently I'm supposed to be dressed in full combat gear at all times, not just sideplates and cowcatchers, now."

"I'M INNOCENT OF ALL CRIMES!"

"Well, at least you don't have to be in solitary." Toby shivered. "I don't even want to know what's happening in there."

"WHOOOOOOO!" shouted Edward, having the most fun he had ever had for quite some time now on his own.

…

FOUR DAYS LATER.

Fergus nodded to himself as a slightly dishevelled looking Thomas was dragged out by the two guards (Henry and Gordon in silly outfits) and dumped in front of him. "Very well, you have served your porridge."

"FOR WHAT!? WHEN DID WE EVEN GET ENGINE JAIL!?"

"All right Thomas." Toby sighed. "I don't know if I can adjust to life back on the outside, man."

"Toby, you slept through most of it."

…..

THE PRESENT.

So yes, it was fair to say that Thomas and Fergus were best friends in that Thomas had been told that he was contractually obligated to get along with all the new cast members this time around. Fergus was the darling of the cement-works, as he knows all the rules and obeys them. He is also hated by most of the workers for this, as union laws mean that they have a scab in the very midst of their many, many, MANY strikes. We'll ignore how thus far he's not done much AT said cement-works and just move on with the story.

One day, the Fat Controller sent for a diesel to assist in the cement-works.

The planned diesel, however, had been Mavis. She had come down with a sudden case of agonizing pain in her tanks, so she had been pulled over into Vicarstown way to be examined.

So in the chaos, no one noticed as Devious Diesel snuck into the yard.

Or as we know him, D1.

D4 was also on hand, just in case people started to wonder why someone who had been repeatedly dragged off the Island kicking and screaming would return in such an underwhelming and sneaky fashion. She got on with the work as she acted as 'Mavis', while D1 snuck up to Fergus.

Perhaps it was the heat. Perhaps it was his cover. Or perhaps the Island's brand of stupidity had finally gotten to the traction engine, but he didn't see Diesel as a threat.

Yet.

As to who kept over-enthusiastically shaking a rattle in the background, no one knows.

"Oh, you're back again!" slurred the Fat Controller, who was drunk and didn't see anything wrong with the picture in front of him. "Show the- HIC! -diesel around, give em a hand- HIC! Oh dear god I'm going to go and lie down now and regret a lot of things."

Given the way that Duck, who was entering the yard, suddenly shot back like a cannonball in reverse at the sight of D1, Fergus let out a quietly disapproving "Yes!" to the Fat Controller. He could tell that this diesel was going to be an issue.

….

Later, D1 was being anti-social as all hell. He banged into the trucks and sent them flying from their position under the hopper. He slid under it and glared at Fergus, silently waiting. He didn't have long to go.

"Careful, or I'll knock you about until you remember how to work! Do it right!"

D1 stared into Fergus's soul. "Don't interfere."

Then the hopper kicked off.

D1 blinked. "You forget you saw this."

"YOU DON'T KNOW THE RULES, DO YOU!?"

"Isn't that what you were supposed to teach me? It's your job." muttered D1, who had picked up a bit of attitude from being stuck inside with Captain Zero for so long. He backed off, and began to think very, very carefully.

Later, he returned with news from the Fat Controller. Or so he said. "You've got to go work at the smelters. Or something. He was eating a lot."

"SMELTERS!? ME?! But the cement-works is my safe space! And don't tell those bloody liberals I called it that, or they'll be all up my arse!"

"Charming, but he did say it. And, also he….he said that I'm going to stay here instead of you because I'm better. So….nyeh nyeh."

D1 had gotten a bit camp in recent years, it must be noted.

"S'NOT FAIR!" snarled Fergus. "THE CHIEF IS TRYING TO KEEP ME DOWN! I love working this beat! Everyone listens to what I have to say!"

There was a loud cheer as he left.

D1 was very confused. He had intended to demoralize the workers at the cement-works, and in fact had somehow managed to achieve the opposite.

…..

Fergus and his driver arrived at the Smelters. "I REGER THIS IMMEDIATELY!" said Fergus. "I get why the others don't come here often, it's scary as all hell! Like a Hammer Horror…thing!"

His driver nodded "You're right. But it could be-"

At which point, the two diesels arrived. Arry spoke first, and last.

"HELLO! ARE YOU HAPPY TO BE HERE?!"

"NOPE." Fergus left like a shot.

Arry turned to Bert. "We have to work on our social skills at some point, bruv. No one's coming to our birthday party if that's our opening line."

"ESCAPE, ESCAPE THIS WAS A MISTAKE!" shouted the driver, who pulled back so hard on the lever that it nearly came off in his hands. And for the first time, Fergus broke the rules.

…..

"THAT MAVERICK!" roared Chief, er, the Fat Controller as he sat in his very ugly green night-clothes and ate several of the kippers that had escaped the wrath of the Goat. "He should TURN IN HIS BADGE! He's a Wildman! Untameable! SEND THOMAS TO BRING HIM BACK! We must get to the bottom of this."

"It's not a bloody cop show!" snapped Alice Hatt, who just wanted to go to bed.

…..

Fergus and his driver headed along a disused track (Which looked suspiciously like the castle causeway from an earlier episode, but whatever) and ended up in what Fergus sarcastically called the 'Ghetto' part of Sodor.

Fergus is not the most correct minded of people kids, show respect to others.

He was frightened, but didn't show it. "AH WHO NEEDS EM! One engine, betrayed by the country he loved, must rise above to HOLY SHIT WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?"

"It was an owl." Said his driver.

"I HATE OWLS!"

"Why did we come to the countryside?"

"Just…just shut up, you, and let me think!"

Thomas was also of the opinion that both his driver and his controller were in good need of a hard think about their lives. He was exhausted as he puffed up and down staring at everything and nothing.

"We could try the old mineshaft!"

"We could! But MUST we? That line is dark AND SPOOKY!"

The driver ignored his protests and turned him down the line. Thomas wondered vaguely if the Naughty Gnomes were the ones responsible for Fergus going missing. But that would just be ridiculous, even for this Island and this show.

Fergus was on a siding, sans fire and sans dignity. Then IT happened.

"AN ENGINE!?"

"My word, you are just full of bright and clever observations today." Thomas snarled as he rounded the bend.

"Wait, I take it back. It's just an arse."

"What in the bloody stump of King Godred's neck are you doing out here at this hour dragging me out of bed?!"

"I am….strategically retreating from the Smelters! I need back up! It's a hellhole and I don't want to be there! And the Fat Controller's going to be cross with me!"

"You are DAMN-" Thomas stopped, and hesitated for a moment "-DAMN wrong! He's not cross he's…worried. For your safety. Yeah. YEAH that's it!" He was lying through his teeth, which worked quite easily on the very, very stressed Fergus.

"Really?"

"Reaaaaaaaaallllllly." Thomas said.

Fergus stared at him. "You know, I know you're lying, but I'm so exhausted, I'm just going to go along with your tomfoolery."

…

"You know we could have done this anywhere else. If I wasn't so tired, I'd assume you were trying to kill me deliberately."

"Now there's an idea." Thomas muttered as he drew into the smelters.

"Fergus, explain yourself!"

"IT'S AN AWFUL PLACE, SIR."

"You make a fair point, Fergus. It also doesn't help that messers Grimm and Grimmer are over there constantly trying to chew your face off." Thomas sighed. "And also, some shit about Diesel being here and telling him that yadda yadda yadda, he was going to be staying here forever, I'm honestly not sure why I'm even here at this point."

"Nonsense!" The cameraman rushed in to get a close up of the Fat Controller and ended up beaning him in the head. "AAAARGH SHITE!"

Quickly, the dub over artist hurried. "Uh, Diesel'll come to the Smelters and you can sod off back to the cement-works and do whatever OKAY AMBULANCE PLEASE."

"Oh….thank you, sir?"

Fergus knew he had a good friend in Thomas and he was still the pride of the cement-works.

He also knew that he was lying through his teeth when he thought that.

…..

Later on, Fergus arrived to meet Duck at the entrance to the Little Western. He looked grim. "I've been compromised." He said with little preamble. "Thing is, I've been drinking and working a lot, so it didn't occur to me before, but whoever that diesel was, he had the stench of the Other Railway about him. With that in mind, I've taken myself off the radar, putting about some rumour about that quarry accident giving me some gip. Al the better to help you with."

"The security footage confirms it." Duck sighed. "Should have taken more care of Diesel, maybe none of this would have happened."

"Can't focus on that now!" Fergus said with a touch of impatience. "Important thing is, what happens next? There's going to be a whole new influx of holiday makers entering the country soon, if they're planning an attack, then they have a perfect time to carry it out."

Duck paused. "I..don't think that is what they're planning. Sure, they want to limit the lines of defence, but there's a method to this madness….my earlier theory about the crates was way off."

"What? How?"

"Because it's the kind of stupid thinking that the Fat Director would have used. The kind of stuff that you think is clever until you really break it down to brass tacks and so forth. And thus far, whoever has control of…well, these invaders, he's actually been fairly decent at keeping his cards close to his chest. This doesn't fit his MO. It's the kind of thing that works better as a distraction more than anything."

There was a long pause as this thought sank in.

"Oh shit." Duck said quietly.

…..

D1 smiled, as he waited in the cement-works. Any moment now, and he would be close to eliminating one of the wildcards.

As Oliver pulled out of there, still sulking over Duck's refusal to accept his apology, he failed to notice D1 slowly trail after him.

The chase was on.

….

1999.

Captain Zero watched with what he hoped looked like disinterest, but was in fact a fascinated kind of fear, as Diesel 10 swiped again and again with the claw, repeatedly slamming through trucks and steel as if they were cotton candy.

Silently, the Clown stood besides him. Zero had seen him coming, but that still hadn't lessoned the fear.

"Have ye got it?" he said with some awkward attempt at an unfazed reaction. The Clown slid a single piece of paper across with a series of symbols of varying size and shape. Zero nodded, this was some sort of spell. The kind that could teleport several thousand people away at an instant.

With one crucial difference that the Fat Director was not to know about.

The engines would be staying put on the Island.

The Malignance had told him that it was necessary for the Malevolence to be defeated by a group of engines, and for that to happen, they needed to stay put upon the Island for…some reason, he hadn't mentioned that part.

It would be two days before the spell was implemented, in which case he needed to get back to the Other Railway to monitor the situation closely. But first, he had one last thing to pull off.

Several parts from varying different engines had been brought to the Malignance, from all across the world, and he had managed to cast some sort of enchantment on them. When they were slid into place amongst Diesel 10's parts? Well, things would definitely get very interesting indeed. Best case scenario, it would cause several breakdowns over the next few days, plus the possibility of lingering mental instability. The Fat Director's plan was a stupid one, but one that he was all too happy to implement, given the nature of what the Malevolence could be.

...

Zero and Boomer's communications were getting fraught with each other. Ever since he had given Boomer that tip-off regarding Gotch, Hargreaves and UZZ, the two of them had been as thick as thieves, in both mental and metaphorical senses. He had no time to think about that, though.

Smudger had done something rather ridiculous, in that he had gone good before he had died. Which on the one hand, meant that things were going well enough that a few more elements of the plan could be tossed out the window for the Fat Director's lot. But on the other hand, that left the Malignance sans body.

Hence why the Fat Director ordering Ivo Hugh to be taken from the Island to be brought to the Other Railway as a 'statement of intent' had been such a lucky strike. And so, Zero had sat back.

He watched the Fat Director load up the gun.

He watched the Fat Director line up the gun.

He watched the Fat Director shoot the gun right into Ivo Hugh's head.

And then he waited for the inevitable spasms of pain to die away, and as the Fat Director moved across to check on the invasion plans, Zero darted forward and opened up a single portal.

He barely glanced at the nearly dead engine, pausing only to grab hold of a set of keys before opening a second portal back onto the boat headed straight for Sodor.

…

It was from that boat that he jumped onto land and strode across to Knapford. With a cool, determined air, he opened the door to Hatt's office and stepped inside.

It should be noted, first of all, that in the previous volume, these events were mentioned before. However, a little context for you all now hurts no one.

It was true that in his head, he saw a whole fleet of things that he called Z-Stacks, on land, on sea, in the air, everywhere in between. It was true that he also saw Boomer or the Fat Director getting into arguments regarding who ruled the world. And it was also true that, had the Malevolence won so completely, he sat in a very pretty position of having a lot of money to be played with.

But that wasn't what was foremost on his mind.

What was in that steel trap of a mind was what lay inside the drawers of the desk he currently sat at. And as he rifled through, finding meticulously notes that explained how the Island's financial system worked, how the various companies that had begun to rely upon the railway and vice versa operated, the various complaints that various people had about the Island and so on and so forth, he began to get a very real, very clear idea.

He rang Boomer up. "Ach, we've done it man! We've got them! We've got them!"

"Terrific! About time! The scavenger crews are coming back with prisoners now, and any others are probably preparing for a counter attack."

"Should I order my men ta stay behind and deal with yon fools?" He nodded to Reginald, a nod which meant 'Get out of here, to the safe house'.

"No. You and your men need to return to Shining Time. I rather think that killing their heroes in front of everyone will be sufficiently demoralizing enough. Besides we're having a cocktail party! All of us! It'll be a blast!"

"Ye've got TV there, have ye?" That was important, he needed to time it just right.

"All eyes are on us!"

"Then I willnae miss it!" And with that, Zero hung up, and finished up the last elements of his plan. Firstly, he made sure to lock the door behind him carefully, having made notes of the various documents that were needed. Secondly, he sped off to the last boat, grabbed the chest and let out a sharp whistle.

The Clown appeared, took the chest, and left without a word.

And finally, he opened up his own portal and headed on through.

He did not, in fact, close it.

…

The Malignance sat, and waited in the darkness of his cell.

He had, over the course of his imprisonment, been able to hollow his way out of the dimension he was trapped in, to the point where he was pretty much trapped behind a glass wall, staring out at the Magic Railroad. Not long after Zero had left, Thomas and Lady had passed through, and the pair of glittering eyes that were the Malignance had locked with those of Burnett Stone.

Now there was one to watch.

But back to the point.

He wasn't able to escape as of yet. But he had been able to use something to his advantage. The Island's magic was the thing that, supposedly, had been keeping the engines from being ripped from the Island in the first place. That was true to an extent, but it was that the Island itself was feeding the engines more and more power, like thousands of electrical currents going through thousands of plugs into one massive adaptor. Magical energy that, with the boost from Lady, could kill the Malevolence. He had just enough magic left to direct the Island's energies towards those engines, and then sit back and wait for them to do the rest.

And that was where the Clown had come in.

One of the portals that Zero used, the one near Shining Time, now had a rather old, battered chest placed there by a mysterious figure who vanished as soon as his job was done.

Then the battle had begun. And…well, you know how it goes. The engines get beaten down, all the Other Railway staff who hadn't left beforehand were wiped out (Save for Zero and the Fat Director, who had collapsed into one of the time portals) and the engines went inside the Malevolence and finished it.

At the moment of it's death, the Malevolence tried to find some way to get out of it. Tendrils lashed out in a desperate attempt to break free from the light, but it was impossible. The light penetrated everything and everywhere.

Including the chest.

The Malignance began to suck it up like an anteater with ants. It was nourishing, it was rewarding and for the first time in years, his body grew and grew and grew, until the chest could not take it any more.

In the chaos of the Malevolence's death, no one noticed as an old chest shattered into fragments of wood, and no one noticed as a spectral figure rode through the portal and back to the Other Railway, where it was the work of a moment to grab hold of Ivo Hugh's body.

And after that, all he had to do was wait, and revel in the feeling of having a body again, until the Iron Circle came.

And they let him just walk right through them, without even a second glance.

The Malignance was free.


	58. Episode 19: Bulgy Rides Again

**AaronCottrell97:** Dead is a strong word...severely maimed though, now that's more accurate!

 **Reality Rejection Service** : 1: Toby had his cowcatcher a few metres off. Fergus just doesn't really like Edward. 2: That something will be discussed in this chapter. 3: YAY!

 **Game-Watch:** I mean, you make an excellent point. The last six/eight episodes aren't going to be having much Malignance action, but Season 8 and 9 will give him more to do.

 **MattPrice01:** With regards to the Zero plot, here's what I'll say here. Zero took most of the documents that gave an insight into the financial situation of the island, hence why he was able to take the helm of a company and move it into taking a good portion of the Island's stock. Ivo Hugh was meant to be a body for the Malignance to occupy a la D10 for the Malevolence, but being killed by the Fat Director, he had to improvise and is now possessing Ivo Hugh's corpse. The scene where the Malignance watches the Magic Railroad is a reference to the fact that his first appearance was as the glowing pair of eyes in one of the universes Burnett passes. The portals being open was an escape route for the Malignance to escape back to the Other Railway, and Truro being so anti-diesel meant that his forces did not work out that Ivo Hugh was dead. Hopefully that covers some of it, I hope you enjoy this chapter more.

 **Streakofscarlet:** Hello! I can't as of yet say what the plan is with the subplot, but rest assured, there is a plan in place. Yeah, Emily had this awkward moment early in the writing of this series where I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with her. You can tell that a little given how her characterization bounces around. So I'm glad you like the role I've got for her!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** I like Prejudice a lot! Especially as I am a history nut, so the stuff about the blackshirts was interesting to see in the context of Sodor. It's a little bit of humour for D1, given how weird the episode is (Even if it is one I really enjoyed watching)

 **UGX7:** With regards to D1 and D4, if you will recall at the end of Season 5 the real Diesel was captured by the Other Railway and D1 had his place assumed. Mavis is still active and alive, it was just that D4 took her identity so that she could make sure that Fergus was there.

 **Bronze Shield:** I was thinking 1970's cop show more than anything, but that works too! I was surprised by how much fun I have writing Fergus.

 **Australian Guest:** Thank you, and yes, UH OH INDEED.

 **jsw:** Mayyyyyyyyybe.

CUE THE THEME

* * *

In the summer time, there is not a better place to be than the Island of Sodor.

A pity then, that it was Autumn, when the Island had the shits and made people feel like they were being attacked by Anthrax.

The holiday makers are often quite happy to be shown the 'sights' of Sodor, such as the old paddleboat that was most definitely not a tug by the name of OJ who had been hijacked and left to scream where no one could hear him. Or the flaming pool of rubber rings, which was neither a pool, on fire, or consisted of rubber rings.

In short, fleecing tourists had become something of a speciality of the Island's railways, even if the practice was heavily discouraged officially by the Fat Controller. He was too busy eating ice cream to pay much attention to the very, very, very minute details of everything.

There was, however, a problem.

And no, it was not the fact that Henry and Gordon were becoming dangerously fat and in need of a good hard workout routine.

Though that was the case, and Emily was already preparing hell for them in the name of 'fitness'. She had a lot of time to think it through, as she and Thomas were in the foundry for repairs.

"How?" asked the foreman, wearily.

"It was a complete accident!" protested Thomas, vehemently.

…..

ONE DAY AGO.

"Bet you can't drink an entire gallon of anti-freeze in one sitting." Henry muttered, as Thomas stared down angrily at the cards. He was doing a good job of winning Snap. Unfortunately, the game that the rest of the engines were playing was Go Fish, and thus, he was losing.

Unsurprisingly, much ale had flown that night.

And thus Thomas had drunk an entire gallon of anti-freze.

In fact, he had drunken three.

And, well, you can imagine.

…..

"Uh huh." The foreman was unconvinced, and turned to Emily. "And you?"

"I was….attacked. By a car."

….

ONE DAY AGO.

"WHAT DO YE MEAN I HAVE TO PAY FOR PARK PLAZA?!" Emily was so incensed at James's incessant cheating at the sacred game of Monopoly that she drew in a deep breath. Unfortunately, to save on money, the pieces had been made out of tin. As such, the sudden breath of wind sucked Mr Monopoly's car into her mouth and down her windpipe.

….

"Ah ha." The foreman shook his head, and returned to his drink. The Fat Controller popped up, as he had heard there was ice cream in the area and he was dying for anything, even some vanilla. So was Lady Hatt, but not the kind that he was thinking of.

Yes, even your humble narrator is now in the gutter with you lot.

"I need to find a way to carry more passengers!" he said.

"Get bigger arms, sir!" said Thomas, the cheeky shite.

"We have so many holiday makers-"

"And not enough engines, we know, we know." Said Emily. She had been here not long and even she had picked up on the general theme of the Island.

"A double decker problem to be sure!"

"Double…decker….problem" Sir Topham Hatt thought, and then he had an idea. Then he went off and bought himself the finest Double Decker Ice Cream he could find. And as he ate that ice cream, he had another idea that was tangentially related to the phrase.

"We really should get rid of that bridge." He thought to himself as he went under THE bridge and- Okay, you've read the title, don't pretend it's a surprise, it's Bulgy.

Bulgy is a double decker bus who was turned into a henhouse after a silly accident. That sounds mean, until you realize that it's apparently 2003 and we can't say that he was trying to kill all of the engines and was a really racist git about it. Since then, he had spent most of his time trying to convince the chickens to remain in their place (Get it? Because birds, and he's a right wing arsehole? …Look, not all of my jokes can be zingers, okay?) and getting rather annoyed when they kept on laying eggs and…other things, around his top half.

"Good news Bulgy I'm shoving you back on the road!"

"Who the hell are you, I've never met you before in my life?!"

"Stuffed nose, Bulgy?"

"You try being a coop for ten plus years and not getting feathers up your nostrils, it's bloody awful! …I mean, thank you sir, I shall try my best to…be really…useful. And be the best bus ever!"

The Fat Controller was still naïve to some of the ways of the world, so he didn't notice the fact that Bulgy was currently humming something relating to the USSR national anthem under his breath.

The next day, he arrived at the foundry. Thomas looked at him and immediately wondered if Oliver and Duck knew about this.

"THOMAS HAVE YOU SEEN-" Duck took one look at Bulgy, swore and turned around "-NEVER MIND, THE WORLD HAS GONE MAD AND I HAVE GONE WITH IT!"

"Bulgy!" exclaimed Thomas "What are you doing here?"

"We…We've never actually met?" Bulgy asked, in surprise. "Also, I'm being repaired. I'm going back on the road."

"…I'm sorry, what was that? The blocked nose makes it hard for me to understand."

"I think ye'll be helping the new fermer!"

"The…the new fermer? Is she thick or something?"

"Have you seen the fanart we've got of here?" Thomas muttered under his breath. "Also, it's an accent thing!"

"He needs to deliver his vegetables around the Island!"

"Love, I've already got vegetables to deliver, the kind that are sheep to be lead by me! To a better understanding, and ta very much for the update on the working class, but I think it's time to MAKE SODOR BULGY AGAIN!"

"…So are the people vegetables or sheep in this analogy of his?" asked Emily as he left to get sorted out.

"Who knows? And judging from what Duck and Ollie told me, he's just as friendly as ever. Wow, who knew that old arsehole buses don't get any less of an arsehole as they get older? …Also, maybe leaving him in a field was a bit of a bad decision on our part."

….

Soon, Bulgy was cleaned up and raring to go. If by raring, you mean sullenly and blankly making comments about how many immigrants clearly worked here. However, the fact that his driver had been squished by the rest of the road vehicles meant that they had to find a replacement, and so he was driven back to his usual spot, to show off how shiny and clean he was, even James was impressed.

"MMMMMMMM, nice arse." He muttered to himself.

"Thank you!" said the farmer, who was quite proud of his prize donkey, and was glad to get some notice.

"We'll start in the morning, you'll stay here tonight!"

One might think that the owner of the house was trying to sabotage Bulgy. And you would be right. In his defence, living with Bulgy for ten odd years was bound to take it out of you.

The hens, impressed by their laying grounds new look, crept back into Bulgy when he was fast asleep and soon found nice perches to settle upon, despite not having the ability to fly. Yet another mystery that needs to be solved upon this Island.

Bulgy knew nothing. But when had that ever stopped him, eh?

As he picked up a lot of passengers, many of whom felt the keenest sense of déjà vu, he set off with one goal in mind.

Discuss the good word of that good woman who was certainly not in the least bit controversial: Ann Widdecombe!

Needless to say, the ride was unpleasant even before the issues with the poultry began. He had been driving so smoothly that the hens didn't' wake up, not even when Gordon rushed at him, poop-pooped him and began letting out a bizarre "CLUCK!" noise in an attempt to shake Bulgy's confidence.

Then he turned a corner, and found himself dealing with Trevor, who was moving at glacial pace. "GET OUT OF MY WAY!" cried Bulgy. With the stuffy nose that they somehow hadn't managed to fix, it just made Trevor burst into giggles at the sound and sight of him.

And just as Bulgy prepared to go around, Tom Tipper and his mail van came around the corner ready for their honeymoon.

Bulgy took the turn.

Tom Tipper panicked.

The hens woke up.

The passengers screamed.

In short, chaos reigned.

"GET US OFF!" they screamed. And so they did, emerging covered in straw, feathers, eggs, excrement and shame. "THIS BUS IS FULL OF HENS! This is actually the least weird thing that has happened this week but still! WE SHALL TELL THE FAT CONTROLLER!"

"Ah, nuts! It's actually not my fault for once!"

Trevor moved like Fast and the Furious, Sodor edition, and passed him. Tom Tipper was currently throwing up in a field, while his van made vaguely sympathetic noises that ended up deafening the passengers as they left.

….

When he was sent to be cleaned, Bulgy was dismayed to see Thomas and Emily telling each other awful chicken jokes.

You know the sort.

"Why did the chicken cross the road? Because they saw Bulgy's ugly mug."

"What did the hens say to their eggs about Bulgy the Bus? He really cracked me up."

"What's big, red and is a giant cock? A rooster. …Also Bulgy."

"SILLY HENS! SILLY PASSENGERS! You can have them both!" Bulgy was just about to throw his toys out of the proverbial pram when Emily spoke up.

"Hmmmmm….farmer still needs someone to take his shit ta market."

"A vegetable bus!? Hmmm….a brilliant idea! Glad I thought of it like the alpha male true Brit I am!"

"YES!" hissed Thomas "Get rid of him before he becomes a reoccurring character!" He coughed. "And we're all patched up, so you're a-okay on the passenger front!"

"If I want your opinion blueballs, I'll ask for it!"

It would be nice to end the story like thusly:

Bulgy is perfectly happy now as a vegetable bus, given that he has a smart coat of green, a fashionable serving hatch and plenty of time to rant about things he hates, which is everything. The Fat Controller decided he would be the only vegetable stand on wheels, and he enjoys carrying the vegetables. They don't lay eggs and they never complain.

Unfortunately, we cannot end this story like that. As unfortunately, Bulgy was using this opportunity to sell his latest Daily Mail-esque claptrap entitled 'THE SLAG', and went around insulting everyone.

Then he insulted Terrance.

But that is another story!

...

 _THE PAST._

 _Captain Zero had been fished out of the water three hours after he and the Fat Director had travelled, via time portal, six weeks into the future. The Fat Director himself had hit the water a great deal harder than Zero had, and thus was now out of action for the foreseeable future. There was no telling what kind of damage had been done inside the mind of Lowham Hatt._

 _Once he had healed, he was greeted by Ivo Hugh. Or what remained of his body, that is._

 _"This carcass is not the one I had intended." scowled the Malignance. "It aches. It is slow. Unworthy."_

 _"Perhaps, but it is the best we can do in yon circumstances. Besides which, ye've got yer own...well, incorporealness to deal with, correct?" Zero coughed. "So how did ye get out?"_

 _"The amount of energy used to kill the Malevolence, and the amount of energy he expelled during his death, was sufficient enough to provide a key for my imprisonment. At least, to an extent." The Malignance grimaced. "You are correct in that I have some measure of form as a spirit, but with that in mind, I still have limited powers. Brute force with a touch of finesse. I was a god once. I wish to be so again."_

 _"So what's the plan now?"_

 _"Now...well, first of all, I think it high time we established a far better base of operations than whatever 'this' is."_

 _"Would the Island of Sodor be helpful?"_

 _"It would, actually." The Malignance raised an eyebrow. "You have a plan?"_

 _"Of sorts. Remember that prat Drampf?" The Malignance did not. "Wonky hair. Orange skin. Small hands. ...Bit of a dick?"_

 _"You might as well be describing a great many humans...though the image does ring true somehow. ...Why?"_

 _"Simple, his son and I kept contact after the events at the election, and he's recently had a look at these documents I took from the Fat man's office. Yon Hatt's not nearly as invincible as he may think he is."_

 _"Then I think taking the Island back would be a good place to start. ...One last thing."_

 _"Yes?"_

 _"Lose the accent. It's hard to take you seriously with it."_

…

Duck arrived back at the sheds with a face as pale as paper. He glanced around to find only Edward, Toby and Percy there. The conversation died away as they spotted the Great Western engine looking like he had been through hell.

"What happened?"

Duck took a sip of a large brandy that Percy had been saving for himself. "I got it wrong. I got it so wrong. See, those boxes we found? Those aren't for us to be moved around like models, they were just something to make us think they were. It's the kind of impossibly stupid plan that we would usually face, but what we didn't think of was this...where the hell have our enemies been? ...That meeting you told me about, Edward? It was tonight, and….shit." Duck winced. "Bloody Nora, everything that's happened has NOT helped our standing with the public."

"I'm…I'm sorry, what?"

Duck sighed. "We got there too late to make any real contribution, but from what I can gather, the Mayor was there, he was able to talk to the Fat Controller and tell him and us what happened." He swallowed. "A lot happened. The new boss of Zed Industries appears to have gotten on the best possible side of the community."

….

 _The meeting was packed to the brim with nearly every major member of the Island's community. So crowded was it that they had run out of chairs, so wherever they could, people stood or slouched or just plain old sat down._

 _Mayor Bedella looked nervously around. There was, for the first time in a long while, a sense that a change was coming. And that was worrying in this climate._

 _The figure at the front smiled, coughed politely to get everyone's attention and took to the stage. "Hello, and thank you all for coming. I appreciate that the Island is chaotic to navigate around at the best of times, and, well, when have the best of times ever come here?" There were a few chuckles of appreciation. "Anyway, to get down to business. I am the chairman of Zed-Industries, the company that will be taking over the running of the television show as soon as filming on this series is complete. Now, I am obviously going to open the floor up to questions later, but I would like to first put forward a little idea as to why I think it's advisable that you back me and my company. I present, exhibit A."_

 _The screen above him flickered into life, and every pair of eyes turned to see several very familiar images. Percy crashing through the chocolate factory, Duck going headfirst into the barber's shop, Thomas falling through a mine, through a barn, through a wall, through the stationmaster's house, drinking up the only supply of anti-freeze in the entire Island, Gordon crashing through Kirk Ronan and more and more. Each image was familiar, but with the words spoken by (As we know him) Captain Zero seemed to make them take on new life._

 _"This is just what we could find documented over the last twenty or so years of life on this Island. Let me make what I am about to say abundantly clear. What I am doing will not destroy the railway. Too much of this Island's livelihood is earned through this railway. With that in mind, let me echo what I have no doubt many of you have said throughout your lives in your minds. There is a need for change. You have all suffered at the hands of the foolish drivers, firemen, guards, porters, signalmen, stationmasters and the engines themselves. People who cannot keep themselves in check and bring you fine citizens to rack and ruin in the course of it."_

 _The crowd seemed to agree with this._

 _"I have on hand several papers regarding a study carried out by independent contractors regarding the amount that this Island has lost as a result of the foolishness of the North Western Railway since it's inception, and let me tell you, change is needed to get both it and this Island back on track."_

 _He grinned._

 _"Now no doubt you are thinking something about Mr Drampf besides me. Well his father may have been a controversial man, but Jasper here is as fine a man as I have ever met. With that in mind, allow me to note, our company will be offering work for all of you lads and lasses, regardless of colour, creed, gender or what you like in your bed at night." Chuckles arose._

 _And so it went on, and on. Points were raised and no one really had a counter for them. References were made to the amount of money Thomas had drained thanks in no small part because of his campaign to become mayor. The frequency with which stations were closed and reopened were also a factor, and safety decisions such as the incident with the Boulder, and the several dozen earthquakes and avalanches that had occurred there._

 _The Fat Controller, Duck and his crew arrived just in time to see the entire community throw their full support behind the Captain's proposals, and were left with mouths hanging open as Bedella, gritting his teeth, was forced to make him an honorary citizen of Sodor._

…..

"…Is it wrong to say that I almost admire him, in a very, very grudging way?" Toby asked, as the silence set in.

"Why?"

"Well…he's not exactly wrong, is he? We have caused lord knows how many accidents over the years, and several incidents involving most of the community. It would be one thing if he said that he was going to eliminate the railway, we did win at Shining Time and they will remember that. But by making it so that he can fix things, it puts us very much on the back foot."

Edward growled. "And not to mention that he'll be targeting all of those staff members. You think the Norris family will last in this environment?"

Duck sighed. "Can today get any-" He paused. "No. No I shall not say it." He looked at the other engines, who gave him a curious glance, and sighed. "Can today get any worse?"

"DUCK!"

"Oh, speak of the devil. Hi, Boxhill."

"I say, old thing, you might...want to brace yourself!"

"Oh, what?" Duck said grimly.

"It's Oliver. ...It's pretty serious."

Duck stared at Boxhill for a moment, then started off at top speed towards the works.

* * *

CLIFFHANGER.

DUN DUN DA.


	59. Episode 20: Harold and the Flying Horse

So here's an episode that exists.

Yeah, that's about it.

You'll note that this one is a very slight episode. Primarily because we're coming up to the final six episodes, which I'll be spending more effort on, and also because I was on holiday in Dartmouth, so busy busy busy!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yeah, especially seeing as he wouldn't have had a model on standby unlike, say, Duke or BoCo. Weird choice.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : That they are. And that Bulgy is, we will learn what happened to him as we enter the final six episodes.

 **Game-Watch:** Yeah, it's a weird little snafu, and it's so easy to solve as well, you've got the models for Duck and Oliver on hand, why not use them apart from selling Emily toys and bringing Thomas in- And I answered my own question.

 **MattPrice01: I** f he does, he is on borrowed time.

 **Streakofscarlet:** Yeah, those are all things that happen in this very weird, very oddly done episode.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Pretty much what I was going for here, and something that will be a theme throughout Season 8.

 **UGX7:** You find out a little of what happened to him here, so you needn't hold your breath for long.

 **Bronze Shield:** Giggity.

 **Australian Guest:** Egg puns are always a sign of rather well done eggsecution. Someone stop me.

 **jsw:** Bulgy's voice is weird in that episode, and it's the only time it turns up, so it makes it stand out even more.

 **Guest:** As a stressed induced hallucination, sure!

 **Garchomp65:** As well as trying to write other stories in other fandoms, and having to juggle a university career as well, I'm only human. Besides, I'm trying to make sure they are really good when I send them out. A lot of effort has to go into these.

 **GreatWestern1522:** Eh, call it a little continuity hiccup, or maybe the Fat Director took credit for it and Zero just let him roll with it.

CUE THE THEME

* * *

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Oh. So we're doing this now.

This is why we should start staging more crashes, we get less filler like this. Actually, that's an insult to filler.

We really have to do this episode?

….Fine, fine.

Harold the Helicopter is a racist old sod who hates steam engines with a passion and thinks that all of them except for Percy are worthless piles of scrap.

…..Oh, I'm sorry, I misread the script. Harold is very glad to not be a steam engine, as he is far happier flying in the sky than racing on road or rails.

As you can see, an easy mistake to make.

One day, after Harold got slightly drunk and accosted the viaduct, convinced that he could see Duke crossing it after having risen from the dead, his pilot decided to look at the accounts again and noticed, with some distress, that Harold's gambling addiction had started back up in full force.

"It's back to low maintenance stuff again, Harold!"

"Piffle! Sah, I know what I am doing!" said Harold, a statement that sent the entire airforce into roars of mocking laughter.

…..

One morning, the engine's were preparing for the vicar's annual fete. It felt like only last year that they had been doing the same, Percy had remarked to Thomas. The latter hadn't the heart to tell him that was why it was referred to as the 'annual' fete.

Everyone was very excited. This is what we in Britain call sarcasm, kids, learn it. But who could resist the treats of 'Guess How Many Grains of Sand Are In This Bag of Sand' (Capitalization was not one of the vicarage's strong points), or who could hold themselves back from 'Cut Me Own Throat Norris's Coconut Shy, This Time With Less Glue'?

Many people, as it turns out. Even Trevor looked close to cracking completely at the sight of 'Hook a Cement Ducky'.

"It's not quite our tea party, is it, Bertie?" grimaced Edward, as a poster with the words 'summer fete' written in a cheap font was plastered over a 'do not drink' sign. That wasn't worrying at all. "I'm not sure that drawing of a sun with eyes that appear to consist only of pupils would pass much muster at the National Gallery."

"Looks like shite." The bus said.

"So you'll fit right in! AYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYE!" Bulgy arrived, left and spoke in the amount of time it took for some people to sneeze.

"I….really hate him." Bertie growled, before taking over in a desperate attempt to scrounge more money from the passengers. Edward grimaced, he knew that feeling. Gordon had been bringing up the 'Tar Wagon Incident' once again, and it was beginning to annoy him immensely.

"I'd like to help!" Harold said, lying through his teeth. "But I'm on patrol!"

"For WHAT!?" Percy exclaimed in frustration. "Pissed off farmers?! UFO enthusiasts!? …Baffled doggers?!"

"He'll find plenty of those here." James muttered.

He was looking, supposedly, for engines in trouble. This did not explain how he somehow managed to fly into Season 5 stock footage as he flew around aimlessly.

….

The engines were still waiting on news about Oliver, currently locked into the Works until he could be moved to somewhere with more advanced facilities. Still, work went on, and Percy had been roped into carrying deckchairs and, less than specifically described, decorations.

There was no call as to whether or not the Fat Controller was going to cause a scandal like last year and break thirty deckchairs by attempting to sit on them, one after the other, but the amount of titanium put into the chair suggested that the possibility had passed the creator's mind.

There were also tables, tea urns and reminders, such as 'DON'T BE A YOB' and 'PLEASE REMEMBER THAT DUMPING GROUND IS NOT LITERAL, NORRIS'.

"Don't forget to come to the Vicar's fete!"

"How could I forget?"

"I don't know, how could you?"

"….Well aren't you an annoying smart alec today, doncha know?"

"I am?" Percy was puzzled.

"Thanks but no thanks. Duty calls! Who knows where I must go and venture forth in order to save some poor so-What was that? …There's another cat? AGAIN!? It better not be the same one!" Harold was feeling a lot less RAF around about this time, the constant forcing up and down and flying around of his work had finally begun to take it's toll on his fragile grip of sanity.

He was just landing at the airfield (And wondering why the hell Butch wasn't taking care of that massive amount of bush and bramble that had somehow managed to trap all other planes inside one of the hangers) when he saw Pegasus the horse.

….Okay who the hell is Pegasus the horse?

Huh, apparently I am being handed a piece of paper and…."Pegasus in the carthorse who lives in the field nearby'.

Sure. Okay. Whatever.

So Pegasus the suddenly appearing horse who will most certainly be on sale in Tesco in a few weeks time given how the UK apparently can't stop shoving horses into microwave meals, whinnied as he saw Harold. The whirlybird indicated what he thought of this at great length, but the whining of his blades cut it off.

Pegasus was preparing to give rides to the people at the fete, with a large leather harness and a cart glistening with gleaming paint. Some had argued that it wasn't paint, but the blood of all those he had killed.

Given what we have learned about the Island of Sodor thus far, this might not be as far-fetched as it sounds.

Harold was beginning to feel left out. How he could with the noted partiers Tiger "BLOODY!" Moth, the faceless fire engine and Butch (Who had a sore throat), we'll never know. At that moment, Thomas puffed in with passengers.

"Where are you going next, chap?"

"Oh, the fete. Of course. …Isn't everyone?"

"I say old thing, you know I have a crippling phobia of being BEING LEFT BEHIND!" wailed Harold.

"Not my problem." Thomas said.

"I'm on duty!" Harold recovered quickly enough to try bragging.

"Of course you are." Thomas said, patronizingly "It's very important job being a rescue helicopter. Think of all those lost cats you've returned to being…lost again."

"I get the sense that you are mocking me, old chap. No one needs rescuing!"

"Nooooooooooooooo. Me? Mock? Never."

…..

"HELLO RUSTY!"

"CATS ON A HOT TIN ROOF WATCH OUT!" Rusty nearly tipped into the water as Harold swung so close to their fuel tanks that they very much wondered if it was a Viking funeral they were after. Harold had just been informed by his pilot that the Fat Man wanted something.

"Pegasus is stuck in a ditch!"

"Stuck in a ditch?"

"Stuck in a ditch!"

"Silly old Pegasus is stuck in a ditch."

"All on a Monday MOOOOOORNING."

"OH VERY FUNNY!" Gordon screamed as he hauled past. The Fat Controller, Harold and Percy shared victorious grins before getting serious.

"Silly old horse apparently can't get out and for that we need to waste time with sending our one helicopter to the scene. Even if he is a shit one. The children will be disappointed. Sod em, I say, but that's why I'm not liked by most of the Island these days."

"Alllllllll set and ready for action!"

"Then why are you shaking like you've been doused in coffee?"

"BECAUSE HE HAS!" screamed the lunatic who had knocked the pilot unconscious and stolen his uniform.

"Oh dear." Percy said as Harold lurched from side to side, taking out several trees in the process. Then he paused as something far more important occurred to him. "Funny name for a horse."

"It's a name for a horse in a very old story. Older than even Mrs Kyndley. And it could fly, apparently."

"Ha! Flying horses! They can't fly!" And somewhere, in a place called Equestria, a random pegasi died. Percy felt very clever, and that was sad in it's own way.

"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite!" screamed James as Harold nearly took his face off with the blades. Eventually, he managed to land as the pilot was busy throwing up.

"What happened!?"

"We loaded the cart, horse went off to wander and fell in that ditch. Silly bloody nag."

"No, that would be a donkey, Thomas."

Thomas looked at Harold in angry disappointment. "I really hate you sometimes."

"Only sometimes?!" Harold beamed. "That is an improvement!"

"….I'll take the cart if you take the bloody horse."

"IIIIIIII'lllll p-p-put him in my sling!" said Harold, as the maniac retook control of him and knocked the shock absorbers off.

"Need to hurry!"

"HURRY IS MY MIDDLE NAME!" said the man who, strangely enough, was not associated with the Norris family.

Soon, the sling had been outfitted around the wannabe Starhill Pony, and the pilot took Harold up into the air, letting the horse scream with sheer terror. The handlers wondered vaguely if they had made a mistake.

And off they went.

When Percy saw Pegasus flying through the air, he was amazed and did in no way put two and two together. "Flatten my funnel! Carlin, did you-?"

"I'm too drunk to care." Drawled Carlin.

"A FLYING HORSE!"

"Sure, Perce, sure, let's get the f**k moving, I want to go home and sleep forever." He ignored the cheering kids, who was so pleased that Harold had saved the fete.

Then the helicopter dropped suddenly. Pegasus went sailing out of the sling, spun through the air-

And landed face first into the wall.

In the horrible silence, Harold managed to settle down on a clump of grass, and grinned.

"So did we do it?"

…..

After retrieving the backup horse from a nearby paddock, he was quickly shoved into the role of Pegasus and hurried into the fete to fulfil the duties of the original horse. The fete was a relatively decent success, hampered only by the strange smell of bleeding horse.

Harold was happy, he had done his duty and had fun at the fete as well.

Now, if only the airfield would get on to paying his ransom, all would end well.

…..

 _THE PAST._

 _"Lights on!" croaked the Malignance, as Zero went to switch off the lights. "Can't…can't abide the dark!"_

 _"Ye're….You're telling me that you're scared of the dark."_

 _The Malignance hissed. "Not afraid. But while this body can sustain me while I am here, it will not make the full journey to and from Sodor. And I need to gain an understanding of how the land works, if it changes by night. The nature of what I am at present requires a source of light to keep me from vanishing into the darkness."_

 _"So what's your plan?"_

 _"Lanterns. There's a lot of them on the Island, I plan to make sure I have a stockpile ready for me. Lamps too. Any light so that I can stay alive, no matter the cost."_

 _Zero shrugged. "Go for it. Just try not to draw too much attention to it. I'm sending Jasper over to see if he can't find out what happened to all of the stuff Marklin was stockpiling in the Smelters. You have no problem with it?"_

 _"….Loath as I am to use things that the Malevolence has sullied, it may not be such a bad idea to at least take note of what we have at our…fingertips, for lack of a better word. I hope you have a plan."_

 _"Likewise."_

 _The two of them stared at each other, carefully._

 _"Put simply, I want to take control of the Island in the closest thing we have to a legal way." Zero said, carefully. "Now, apart from us sabotaging the Fat Director, his greatest error was in how he approached the situation as a whole, like some bizarrely over-complex labyrinth of plans atop plans. No, what will separate him from us, aside from the worthwhile nature of your apparent cause, will be that they will want to GIVE us the land rather than us having to TAKE it from them. Awkwardly balanced financial situations are easy to manipulate, so are people wanting a quick and fast solution. And Sodor is full of both of those."_

 _"Clever." The Malignance smiled. It was not…actually that bad. "Very clever. It'll be a long haul, but worth it in the end, I believe. Now, on my end, I have similar plans. There is a lot of engines there that could be amendable to my plans, tainted though they may be. We all deserve a second chance." He paused. "Speaking of which, I wonder….do you think you could find something out for me with these new…what was it you called them, contracts?"_

 _"What?"_

 _"I'm very much interested to learn what the Iron Circle is up to nowadays. Check them out for me, please."_

 _….._

"Give it to me straight, what are we looking at?"

Duck didn't answer, he was just staring off into the distance with a rather odd look on his face that honestly unsettled plenty of the engines around them. Edward looked at Fergus, who coughed.

"Well, he's alive. Barely. A preliminary examination of the scene of the crime suggests that he was chased down along the rails from the cement-works by a group of at least eight diesels. There's one casualty on that front, one who looks an awful lot like Mavis. My assumption is that she was already suffering quite badly beforehand, and Oliver exploited that to make sure that the others went off the scent. Toad and most of the trucks are currently being taken to the Bluebell Railway for the time being."

"Yes, but Oliver himself?"

"….Both of his crew are dead, which indicates human interference. His wheels are in terrible shape, most likely a result of going too fast, and there are a lot of bullet woudns along the boiler, cab and buffers. Fact that he didn't go up is a miracle. The fall off the bridge has also damaged areas of his chassis, and most of his face is bloodied up from the fall. Best chance for his survival is to get him to Crewe."

"Cameras." Duck muttered at last. "Who was on the cameras?"

"…From what I can gather? This D1."

"Right."

And Duck stormed off into the night.


	60. Episode 21: The Grand Opening

So here's the deal. I have the last essays for uni to write and thus, I have been busy over the past month or so getting things in order. Please do not harass me about them, I have a lot of work to be doing. Now that said, we are coming up the deadline so I will be finished with them after the 15th. Again, I apologize for the delay, but real life sucks sometimes and you've got stuff to deal with.

Now with that out of the way, review!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Uh huh.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Yeah, honestly, last episode was pretty rough. This one is better because it has some funny stuff with Hatt in it, but luckily the last few aren't completely terrible, and the last episode is actually my favourite of the bunch.

 **Game-Watch:** Update on the schemes are small, but important. We're really getting into it now.

 **MattPrice01:** He is a BEAST! And yes, it was a lot of fun to write and do and all that jazz, even if the episode itself is pretty bland and forgettable.

 **Streakofscarlet:** Hmm...interesting theories. I can't confirm them. I can't deny them either. You'll just have to wait and see. XD. But I'll say this, there's a lot of stuff coming up that should prove to be very interesting indeed.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Yep to both of those! Though...stuff is happening in this chapter to make the recovery a little harder!

 **UGX7:** That they did.

 **Bronze Shield:** Agreed, this is an episode that would work just as well with another character if adapted to their situation, like Bertie or even Trevor. Harold's personality doesn't suit it, the only thing that does suit the episode is the pun with Pegasus.

 **Australian Guest:** DUN DUN DAAA indeed!

 **jsw:**...Wait and see. XD.

 **Garchomp65:** It can exist, probably, but as I know little about it, I won't be incorporating it into the story. Besides which, there's too much in that show to try and incorporate it into this story now

CUE THE THEME

* * *

The engines on the mountain railway were excited. Their contract was nearly up, which meant they could all get some form of shut eye once the filming had stopped.

Oh and also they were building a new station (ANOTHER ONE!? I hear you cry? Yes. Another one. It's like a bloody disease that won't stop spreading) which we are going to illustrate to you via the use of clips that have nothing to do with said new station or the construction of it.

Now, you may notice that the Narrow Gauge engines are not natural construction workers. You would be correct in this, as they had hired Miss Jenny's Pack to do the work for them.

Unfortunately, Jack had accidentally stabbed Kelly with his frontloader (Much to Kelly's annoyance, this did not finish him off once and for all and instead merely mildly inconvenienced him). And Miss Jenny had misheard the Fat Controller and, instead of constructing a 'new station', ended up creating a 'cool inflation area'. Which, in human speak, was basically a place for the Cult of the Red Balloon to meet and greet.

So, with this screwed up, the five engines had to make do and try and create a station to take people to knew and exciting areas of the Island. These included such much see spots as:

-Old Man Norris's Burning Haystacks  
-Old Man Norris's Burning Caravan  
-Massive Bloody Fire, as Maintainted by Old Man Norris  
-Smouldering Ash, What is Left Of Old Man Norris

…..

The Fat Controller arrived with important news. "The new line shall be opened tomorrow. I shall see it….FROM THE AIR!" He sighed. "Now that we've managed to pay off that mad fool with all those crates of bananas, hopefully Harold will be in finer fettle. I shall be arriving with Lady Hatt in that helicopter, and I shall look amazing while doing so!"

"Why from the air, sir?"

"Because WHY NOT at this stage, Rusty. Besides, you see one new station from the ground you've fair seen them all. I want to see if there's anything interesting up in the sky and- Where the hell is that red arsehole?!"

"Rheneas is right to the side of ye, sir." Duncan remarked. He and Rusty shared a rare snigger at this. Peter Sam was too busy contemplating the humble dandelion to react to this.

As Skarloey chugged in, the Fat Controller spun around. "You're late for the announcement! Still, you managed to beat Sir Handel here. He's not been on time for anything in years!"

There was an audible silence.

"Sir….are….you do know that Sir Handel's been gone for four years now?"

The Fat Controller started. "IS HE?! I thought he was just shy!?"

"…..Sir Handel, sir? We speak of the same engine?"

"MOVING ON! Skarloey, this is unacceptable! Really useful engines are never late!"

"But I was doing work, boyo! For charity!"

"No bloody excuse! Get your arses on time tomorrow or I'll have you for mincemeat!"

"He's fat enough already." Rusty murmured. Duncan cackled.

…..

The next day, at the airfield, an issue was had.

"Some maniac's stuffed a banana into Harold's engine!" said the pilot. "Wait, hang on, a whole fistful of the stuff! What idiot tried to flog him off with bananas?!"

Everyone looked at the Fat Controller. "What!? I'm not made of money you know! Have you tried paying alimony to an ex who's father is the chief justice in this bloody Island?! I like my bank account as it is, ta!"

"BUT. BUT THE GRAND OPENING!" Lady Hatt was well aware that the camera was upon her and decided to throw herself into the acting lark. She wanted that role as Lady Macbeth at the Knapford Theatre by golly, she was going to get it. "I've been looking forward to it ALL WEEK!"

"Never fear darling! I shall find us a solution!"

The Fat Controller walked off towards Tiger Moth's hanger.

There was a loud explosion, and he walked back, slightly on fire. "Okay, so apparently Tiger Moth is going to be in traction for the next few months, so he's out of the question….might as well make use of that wasted construction job, then."

….

"IN THIS?!"

"I know the cultists don't exactly give it the best image, dear one, light of my life, buuuut it's either that or walking. Besides, the wind direction is perfect!"

"Oh? And are you a master of the balloon flying arts?!"

"No, but I know a good bargain when I see one."

The pilot walked forward. "Hello, oh Brother Hatt. We of the Saintly Order of The Crimson Inflated Majesty thank you for your humble personage. There is the matter of a fee."

Hatt waved a hand magnanimously. "Name your price."

"To experience the journey of a lifetime, we require thirty of your pounds."

"THIRTY QUID!?" shouted Hatt. He hastily pulled out his wallet as the pilot made to move off, and handed him the money.

"And of course, there is the money that must go to our veterans in need."

Again, out came the wallet.

"Not to mention that which will go the tax."

And again.

"Oh, and we will be requiring your jacket as proof that you have visited us, so that this flight may be blessed."

Hatt de-jacketed and got on, feeling thoroughly conned. And soon, the balloon rose up high into the sky.

….

Skarloey was royally pissed off. "Boyo, this extra work's going to make me late and I'm going to have a right tongue wagging from that arsehole in a suit, let me tell you that!"

"Don't care." Said the workmen, who were picking up branches for…some reason.

"Oh, and look, there comes those red balloon idiots!" Skarloey whistled rather rudely. It was lucky that the pilot could not understand whistle, otherwise he would have been highly offended indeed.

Said pilot was making sure that the red balloon floated peacefully through the sky. This involved the saying of many prayers, throwing salt up into the air and occasionally doing the actual job itself.

"Isn't this nice, dear?!" said the Fat Controller, forcing cheer into his voice.

"If you like salt!" Lady Hatt said, rubbing her eyes furiously. "New line looks good."

"Ta, my dear! Glad I did something right, at least."

"Oh don't start-"

"Hurry up!" hissed Skarloey as the workmen decided to go even slower as they loaded up all of their things into the trucks and brakevan.

"Right. Well we're not doing that." The workmen said, and just to spite Skarloey, they decided to go off and walk instead. The Welsh engine said something vaguely rude In his mother tongue.

"If that git doesn't get a move on, he's going to be late. Again! I have such strict standards, my dear, for being on time."

"So why did it take you fifteen minutes to even roll out of the bed?"

"Don't rain on my parade, Alice."

"I'm not, I'm just saying-"

…..

All the engines were having a grand (Re: Terrible) time waiting up at the village for the Grand Opening to start. So far, Duncan had offended five nuns, caused three quarrymen to have a screaming fit and nearly emptied the alcohol supply. It was not going well, and Rusty was beginning to lose that newfound camaderie they had with the yellow engine. They cleared their throat. "Where's Skarloey?"

"Who cares!?" slurred Duncan.

"He said he'd be here on time." Peter Sam piped up.

"Dinnae mean anything." Duncan groaned. "EVERYONE I KNOW GOES AWAY IN THE END-"

"Rheneas, have you been making him listen to Nine Inch Nails?"

"Dude, don't be a freak hater, dawg!" said Rheneas, in his obnoxious nineties personality.

"Bring back the scrapyard." Rusty muttered. "Might be more fun than this."

…..

At last, Skarloey started off as fast as he could, as the workmen were not coming back any time soon. With a huff and a puff, he tried to ignore the sensation that he was going to have stop in a moment and have a long sip of something alcoholic.

Being a Sudrian, he could not deny himself that feeling long.

At which point, trouble happened.

"THE ETERNAL FLAME OF DESTINY HAS GONE OUT AND NO AMOUNT OF EFFORT ON MY PART WILL BE ABLE TO RELIGHT IT!" bellowed the pilot, "WE ARE FORESAKEN! I HAVE SINNED AND OUR GOD HAS ABANDONED US!"

"Er, what?" asked Lady Hatt.

In layman's terms, the balloon ran out of heat, the cool air began to seep in, and slowly, it drifted down.

"HOLD ON TIGHT!" The pilot wept. "SO THIS IS DEATH!"

"I want to get out!" Lady Hatt shouted.

"So do I!" whimpered the Fat Controller, who curled up on the floor and decided that it was too much effort to try and get up and solve the situation. Better to just accept what his lot in life was being given.

"BE A MAN!"

"Not now, dear."

Skarloey watched this with some amusement, then horror. A pity then that David Mitton got drunk later on and insisted on putting in a shot of a crew member grown to giant size stomping around the scenery in the background, detracting from the moment somewhat.

"THE BALLOON'S GOING TO LAND IN THAT TREE!"

"Your eyes are working fine, boyo." The driver muttered.

And it did. Hard. Right in front of Skarloey. "Hello sir!" He said with a sickly sweet tone in his voice. The pilot jumped out and started praying to his eminence, the Red Balloon. The basket promptly came down seconds later and crushed him.

"MY HAT IS RUINED!" wailed Lady Hatt.

"Mine too." The Fat Controller had been concussed, and therefore was in no form to be giving any sort of speeches or thoughts." He clambered out and stumbled aimlessly around the field.

"We'll give you a hand now!"

"Am I glad-" Sir Topham stumbled over to the engine "-to see you Skarloey?"

The red engine took it as a compliment, rather than the open-eneded question it sounded like. "Thank you, si-Oh. Oh that is a lot of vomit. Ugh. Clean up in aisle ten, buckos!"

They boarded Skarloey's box car and set off, at once. Everyone was waiting as Skarloey brought his passengers to the station. Sir Topham insisted on eating five cream buns and making his speech before being dragged off to hospital. He quickly declared the line open. "With special thanks to Skorlaey for getting us here! Why is the sky purple?!"

As the ambulance hurried off, everyone cheered and Rheneas broke out the Grunge songs to belt out.

"Still late." Rusty teased.

"Yep. Don't regret a bloody thing, at least Fat Man's on time. Now, let's crack open the booze!"

"Can't." Peter Sam said, glumly. "Duncan stole it all."

"So we're going to be staying here for the entire party DRY!?"

"Worst bloody day ever." Skarloey growled.

…..

 _THE PAST._

 _"There are loopholes that we can exploit here and there…hmm…but in order to get hold of the stuff that Marklin and the others were working on in the Sheds, we'll need to have a proper foothold on the Island."_

 _"Uh huh."_

 _"Boring, Jasper?"_

 _"I've been running spy ops for ages now, I'm getting to the point where I wish to take a little bit of a break."_

 _Zero nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm….this…Mr Benn fellow? Ye- Scuse me, You know about him?"_

 _"More a….really urban myth."_

 _"Try me."_

 _"…Well it was rumoured that there was this separate group from the government that was looking into this idea of myths and legends. More specifically, the freaky kind. Most of the stuff that got leaked to the country was sanitized versions made for kids. Mr Benn is essentially some sort of…Doctor Who looking arsehole. Travels through time and does stuff, I suppose."_

 _"….And he attacked you?"_

 _"Yeah. Really bloody hurt, too."_

 _"Hmm…I wonder."_

 _He stood up, and without another word, left the office and started off towards his car. Seconds before he got there, however, the Malignance appeared as if by magic._

 _"I have a feeling-" he remarked casually "-that you are going to tell me about something that you wish could be accomplished."_

 _"….We need a new HQ."_

 _"What is wrong with this one?"_

 _"Too small. Moving to Sodor is the preferred goal, but we're going to need somewhere that isn't constantly swarming with engines who can stumble in by poor chance. We need a backup, or at the very least a testing ground."_

 _The Malignance paused. "Any preference?"_

 _"Why, do you have an idea?"_

 _"I….may. I can get somewhere relatively large for you to do your experiments, vile though they may be."_

 _"How?"_

 _"Leave that-" said the Malignance, darkly "-to me."_

 _….._

 _As Captain Zero stepped foot into the Grotto, he allowed himself a rush of pride. He had done what a certain Director had never managed, and made his way to where Lady was. He felt unbelievably proud of himself, even if she was long gone._

 _So he sat, and he waited._

 _And waited._

 _He was just thinking of leaving when there was a sudden ping, and someone stepped through reality like it was a door._

 _They looked at each other for some time._

 _"Hello." Mr Benn said. "It's nice to meet you. Is what I'd like to say." He crossed his arms. "So what do you want?"_

…..

THE PRESENT.

"So, this thing with the tar wagons, Edward, what is it?"

"Oh, James crashed-"

"Nae nae, I know about that! You've told me that story a couple of times now and….well, it's funny, but at the same time, I think Gordon's talking about ye? With the tar wagons?"

"Well, it's really not his story to-"

There was a loud crack, and everyone (Engine, human, animal) jumped as the sound reverberated around Bluff's Cove.

"What the-"

"Oh thank God!" Edward said, and then hurried off, Emily in tow, to find what it was. They didn't have far to go.

Not far from where a turn-off onto the Little Western used to be, two figures stood there. Only one of them was still alive.

Duck the Great Western Engine looked in shell-shocked horror at what had until thirty seconds ago been D1 (A look of surprise still etched upon his face) and then turned to a stunned Edward and Emily. He licked his lips, unaware of just how much of the blood-like substance that had splattered from the none-too neat hole in D1's forehead.

"I can explain-" he started.

And that was when the police rushed in, and made their arrest even as Fergus desperately tried to get them to calm down. Even as Duck desperately tried to get them to listen to him, he was quickly clamped down and dragged off. Fergus watched it go with a regretful look on his face.

The beginning of the end had come.


	61. Episode 22: Best Dressed Engine

HI SO I JUST FINISHED UNI AND HERE YOU GO NEW EPISODE.

So this episode is pretty meh. The next four are actually good episodes, with the exception of maybe Trusty Rusty, but that one's more boring than awful. Not much happening in this one, primarily because I am trying to make sure that the action in the last four episodes is the best, but some stuff does get advanced. And we'll also get an answer as to how Zero learned about his son. Have to say, the in-universe justification for the Series One stock footage in this episode is one I really like. I wonder if that was placed there as a little call-back to the very first series. Maybe not, but it was nice to see it one last time. Hope you enjoy!

And now, reviews!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yep. Very fun stuff with them, wish they did more with Lady Hatt in the CGI series now that I think about it.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Rusty and Duncan getting along is weird, and will be rectified in about two chapters. That's something that hopefully comes across more in this chapter, but Benn is not MAGICALLY returning from the dead. The fact is that he's a time traveller and as such, he's not experiencing time linearly.

 **Game-Watch:** Agreed. It's especially egregious when they start popping up in the New Series as a whole, but there is definitely that sense here. It's very HIT, even with Season 6 you had cameos and sets from the previous five.

 **MattPrice01:** Exposition is very important, especially as we exit the classic era. Having finished up most of the thread tying that the Zero story was intended to be, I am trying to pace myself a little, More than likely, Ep 23 is going to be about tracking down John, Ep 24 is going to be a bit about John himself and Ep 25 is going to be Zero's reveal of his plan. Ep 26 is going to be where the stories all finally converge in the present.

 **Streakofscarlet:** Actually, the Jack Frost equivalent this season was either Harold and the Flying Horse or Rheneas and the Roller Coaster. Neither of them apparently left enough of an impact on me to go "Ah, that one.". Weird. Rheneas having a shitton of personalities is REALLY helpful, especially considering that the episodes seem to fluctuate on how to portray him. He's a young up and comer, no he's an old engine who knows what's what, no now he's a speed freak, no now he's angry about being a twin, it's very confusing.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Ha! Don't know if I would go that far, but the last episode is going to be a really emotional one, so watch out for that! I mean, when is Duncan not drunk? XD. But I take your point!

 **UGX7:** Ta. Hopefully I can get them out faster.

 **Hughie99:** The big red balloon vs Thanos. Who would- We all know who would win! Murdoch doesn't get much to do in this episode, but hopefully I kept up the same thing as in those episodes.

 **jsw:** Hopefully you'll see what actually happened at some point.

 **GreatWestern1522:** You'll see next time!

CUE THE THEME

* * *

Autumn had snuck up upon the Island of Sodor quite fast, and as Duck the Great Western Engine was dragged off to the jail, with no one quite sure on how to handle things, the other engines decided to do something stupid to distract themselves from all of the stuff.

Luckily, one of those ridiculous holidays had come around, and thus, this episode happened.

So in a way, it was all Duck's fault. Typical.

AHEM.

…..

Over the magical world of stock footage, we shall remark upon the fact that the entire Island was celebrating. Yes, at last, someone had managed to convince Old Bailey to have a wash. Trevor was so excited by this news that he accidentally went back in time to 1995 as the special attraction for the fete.

But the actual event in question was the Best Dressed Station compete-Oh I've just been handed a note saying that I am prohibited from referring back to old episodes as kids don't remember that shit.

…..After seven season? …Oh, I can't be arsed to care.

Okay, it's 'Mayday'. Despite it being October. Wrap your head around that.

The engines knew there would be music and lots of fun, but not exclusively at the same time. And they also knew that if they were lucky, someone might bring in some strippers, and the drivers and firemen would get so distracted that they'd leave the engines to have a day off.

This was the best news they had received in a long time.

Knapford was being decorated…badly. Already the staple gun had claimed three victims to it's merciless idiocy. The Fat Controller had, in the midst of a drunken breakdown, said the engines could dress up too.

"I'm going to have flags and streamers!" Percy said. Oh wait, hang on. No, that's just Bill in prosthetics. The real Percy had refused to do any work and had broken down into blubbering tears when anyone tried to move him, thanks to Duck. THANKS DUCK. "Because I am an unoriginal arse!"

"I'm going to have a big….red…."

"WOAH!" shouted the other engines.

"Banner….BANNER YOU FREAKS, GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTER!" snapped Thomas.

"I shall go as my idol!" James declared, in a prideful fashion.

"But I don't think Liberace is quite in keeping in the theme of the show." Thomas crowed. James glared at him.

"No, me and Henry are going as a tag-team! He shall be Elton John and I shall be Tim Rice!"

"….What does Tim Rice look like?" Edward muttered to no one in particular, as he tried to solve the riddle of what in the hell had happened with Duck.

"Like someone coasting off his more famous writing partner's success!" Now it was Henry's turn to crow.

"What decorations will you have, Gordon?" Murdoch asked. He was just there for the hell of it, he was bored. And we've got to shill the toys, haven't we? Speaking of which, GO TO TOYS R US AND FISHER PRICE TO GET EM! Toys R Us will NEVER CLOSE DOWN! NEVER. You can quote me on that. Angelis: 2003: 7:22.

"HE'S GOING AS A GIANT BLUE ASSHOLE!" James shrieked, attempting to shift the responsibility of being an object of ridicule onto Gordon.

"Solid 4 out of 10 there James. And decorations are not DIGNIFIED!"

"And those eyebrows are?" murmured Thomas. Emily bumped into him, though she could not hide her own smirk.

Gordon was feeling called out and insulted, so he left to go and sulk somewhere in the Sidings.

This wouldn't have happened if Duck was still around.

Actually, now that I say that, yes it would have. It would have totally done that.

…..

"Silly little engines!" He shouted two hours later.

"I'm almost as big as you!" Henry shouted back as he passed by. Gordon ignored the loud crash behind him, it was the green engine's own fault for wearing those ridiculous glasses out on a sunny day.

Thomas was having much more fun, as he was bringing the 'maypole' or, as Carlin had suggested 'that thing that the strippers are going to be f**king waving their goods about'. As he rushed by, he suddenly felt a blast of nostalgia.

It was 1984, and he was young again. The nostalgia pangs had started up, in no small part to the copious stock footage being used.

As kids waved, he whistled back "Peep Peep!" he shouted, for old time's sake. His good mood lasted even as he returned to get dressed up. 'Percy' was looking…well, like an idiot with his bunting and streaming.

Thomas looked far better, if you asked him. "Oh if only someone can unwrap me!" He paused. "Wait, is Emily here? I need to work on my flirtation!"

"Nae happening!" chortled Emily as she rushed on by.

Even Murdoch was being decorated. "I look like a right Muppet" he remarked, as the football savvy workers shoved on the colours of the Sodor United Football team (Currently in the midst of their greatest achievement yet, coming in ninety eighth place in the Sodor Premier League).

"WE COULD HAVE A COMPETITION FOR THE BEST DRESSED ENGINE!" shouted James, who's inside voice was equivalent to that of a tsunami in volume.

"We could, but there'd be no point. Because I'd win." Despite the numerous amounts of bandages, and the pain he was currently in, Henry looked smug.

"Oh dear god, I've stumbled into a bloody madhouse, haven't I?" Gordon muttered as he entered the yard. "Sides which, I rock every and all competition!"

"It's true, he does." Thomas snickered.

…..

A WEEK AGO.

"Gordon, we've having a competition! We're trying to see which one of us can snort the most….er….china clay up off this here table."

"HA! I'LL SMASH YOU TINY ENGINES!"

"Hehehehehe."

…..

"So that's why Crosby's been destroyed AGAIN." James shook his head. "Anyway, you'll have to be decorated to get in to the competition! It's a Best Dressed Engine Competition!"

"GET THE WRITERS TO MAKE THAT THE TITLE!" shouted Britt.

"HA! In which case, sod off! You'll never catch me looking so ridiculous! ….Unless it is for her Majesty, in which case I'll dress up like Judy Garland THAT ONE TIME!"

"I was about to bring that up, funnily enough." Thomas muttered to no one in particular.

…..

The engines felt splendid for about two minutes, and then felt like utter nanas. Gordon, meanwhile, could take no pleasure in their pain as he was having a right strop. "DECORATIONS AREN'T DIGNIFIED! WHO CARES IF THERE'S A COMPETITION!? Not ME!"

"YA BOO SNUBS!"

"And you can piss off, Bulgy!"

"DUCK SAID THAT, AND LOOK WHERE HE IS NOW."

Gordon had no time to ponder this mysterious comment that the double decker had just made. He was approaching the three tier bridge.

There was a single banner strewn across a bridge. On one tier only. And on only the one side. People hadn't really been arsed, and the community service kids had done the absolute bear minimum before pissing back off.

The mysterious slide whistler struck again as the wind whipped it up into Gordon's face. The big blue engine let out a muffled wail and realized that he couldn't see the line ahead.

For whatever reason, the driver and firemen were distracted and so didn't stop the train to remove said banner, for some reason. Instead, they merely smiled and waved to whoever passed them in an idiotic manner.

"I CAN'T SEE! STOP!"

"Can't. This is the express!"

"THIS WILL BE A WHOLE LOT OF DEAD PEOPLE IF WE DON'T STOP!"

 **DID SOMEONE SAY DEATH?** asked Ivor the Engine, out of nowhere.

"NO ONE DID!"

 **OH.**

And Ivor left.

Gordon had little time to ponder what the hell just happened. Trevor was chugging along with a cartload of apples for the apple bob, aka that thing that was a waste of perfectly good apples. Gordon whistled, but Trevor was going as fast as he could which was not fast enough, as you can imagine.

There was a lot of squashed apples that day, I can tell you that now.

….

James was the last to arrive at the station, ready for the competition. "I have this in the bag!" He declared.

"Here comes Gordon!"

"Bloody Nora!" Edward said, trying and failing to repress a snigger.

"Ohhhhhhhhh shite!" Emily said, repressing nothing and bursting out into laughter. Gordon stormed in, the banner slowly deflating and coughing up apple cores wherever he went.

"I didn't think you wanted to be decorated" Thomas remarked, innocently.

"I DIDN'T, KNOCK-OFF ARTHUR!" hissed Gordon.

"Well you're definitely the best dressed engine!" said someone who was clearly trying to imitate James, as the red engine had no intention of saying anything of the sort. Gordon was secretly pleased, though he felt that this wasn't a dignified thing to admit.

Silly Gordon. Dignity is in short supply on this Island.

"MY APPLES!" roared the farmer.

"And that is my cue to leave!" said Gordon, thundering off.

….

At Barrow, an engine began to make his way across the Vicarstown Bridge, for the first time.

Someone bright. Someone fast. Someone in shining silver.

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YES!"

And someone who made Gordon look like Humble-McHumbleson by comparison.

…..

"God damn it, what the hell is the problem with these people?!"

"Edward, calm dow-"

"Oh, WHAT, Toby? Calm down!? We can't all go off chasing bloody butterflies!" Edward paused. "Sorry. Sorry that was….probably not called for. But still, we have been waiting here for nigh on five hours to have a five minute conversation."

"I know. I also know how to count." Now it was Toby's turn to pause. "That came out a lot more sarcastic than I had imagined. Sorry."

At that moment, Fergus arrived, looking grimly at the two of them. "Before you start-" He began.

"Fergus, what the hell is going on!?"

"This Is clearly some sort of trap. This isn't the first time this has happened on the Island!"

Fergus glared at Edward. "Yes. I know. And as disturbing as that is even for a bloody copper like me….that's not the issue. The issue is that most of the deaths on the Island have justifiably been proved to be work-related accidents, or as a result of the Other Railway, or self-defence. Unfortunately, this is technically peacetime, this was not an accident and the fact that there is no sign of any attack on Duck means that he can't claim it was self-defence!"

"Come on, you know he wouldn't do this!" Toby started.

"Of course I THINK that. Thing is, this Island does things to you. The constant noise and bustle and all the bickering and arguing and confusion and delay does things to an engine! Duck's been laser-focused on stopping this transfer, on trying to get on top of things, and with Oliver being the way that he is….well, you can imagine."

"What does he say?"

"Some story about going there with a gun, for his own protection. D1 came up to him, started mocking, and then the gun fired on him of it's own volition!" Fergus looked despairingly at the two of them. "It's a bloody awful story!"

"Then doesn't that mean it's more likely that it's true?" Toby clicked his teeth. "….It's an Iron Circle gun that he's got, right? Those two….Jinty and the arsehole she was with, they dropped off weapons for him on the orders of Truro, …And Truro is the one responsible for Diesel going AWOL in the first place."

"So, what, you're saying that somehow they…hacked his gun?"

"That's bloody ridiculous!" Fergus hit himself in the head with his own truncheon. "And- Ow! Sodding hell. And that means it's probably the truth. But I can't do that with all of the people buzzing around here!"

There was a long silence.

"I propose-" said Toby, at last "-that we at the very least try and get Oliver somewhere safe."

Fergus nodded. "Now that's a ruddy good idea for a tram."

"I….really want to smack you right now."

"There's a safehouse that me and Boxhill know about." Fergus growled softly. "We can hopefully get him out of here before Zero and his lot decide to do something." He sighed. "And Duck?"

No one had an answer for that.

No one, that is, who was meant to be there. Bulgy slipped away, feeling quite pleased that his informing on Duck had managed to pay off so significantly. As he crossed along the busy country road to his owner's house, he decided that things were looking pretty.

He pulled in, closed his eyes and settled down to rest.

Seconds later, he opened them again at a sudden sound.

"Hello matey" said Terrance. "We should probably get to know each other a little better."

Terrance was frowning.

Bulgy suddenly felt very, very worried indeed.

….

THE PAST.

 _Mr Benn and Captain Zero sized each other up for a good two minutes. Benn looked immaculate, like he had just stepped out of the tailor's with a fresh new suit. Zero looked relatively decent as well, though the various deaths he had suffered since becoming the Mysteron's servant had taken effect._

 _"I repeat-" said Mr Benn, frostily "-what-?"_

 _"I wanted to talk, first."_

 _"You summoned me throughout time for that." It was a statement, not a question._

 _"No. I merely wanted to offer you a deal. A very important deal, at that. It concerns…well, the future. Yours in particular. And I know you're a time traveller of some renown."_

 _"….Hmm." Mr Benn sat down on an old stump, and nodded. "I have time. More than most, anyway."_

 _"…Thank you, by the by, for scaring the shite out of my associate the other day. No bloody harm to you, was there?"_

 _"The stuff he is gathering does not need to be inflicted upon this world, nor any other. Those are abominations that your boss and that…Malevolence was creating, and supposing you use them, you will lose control."_

 _"Probably. …So, where in the timeline are you?"_

 _Benn thought. "I've just got a call from Hargreaves. Got to go meet some fellow from, funnily enough, this Island." He shrugged. "Something to do with, again funnily enough, your old boss."_

 _"Oh, that? Hmm. Well, let me just give you a piece of advice." Zero leaned forward. "Don't go back."_

 _"Oh?"_

 _"Trust me, if you do? Not a good ending for you. Whereas if you give me a few more pointers about the future, if you stick around and help me bring about this, ah, what are the words I'm looking for….paradigm shift, of sorts, we can do great things together. Real changing the world stuff."_

 _"…For your own sake."_

 _"Yes. Absolutely. Thing is, this is happening. I don't care what you think, with or without us, the future that my allies are talking about is going to come to fruition. We might as well get on the winning side." Zero looked around him. "The fact that I'm going to get very, very rich off the back of it is certainly a bonus."_

 _Mr Benn stood up. "Oh, is that what this is? A recruiting tool?" He smiled. It was not a happy one. "No, don't think so. Well then, I'll be leaving. You've certainly given me a lot to think about."_

 _Zero scoffed. "You will die. Alone, in this grotto, nearly fifty years ago. Most of your body will be shattered, you'll be bleeding out and you won't even know if you succeeded or not!"_

 _Benn smirked. "Benefit of knowledge about the future, as you yourself have found out. It makes it very easy to plan for upcoming events. Besides which, death isn't so bad, really. I am quite tired, and would be glad of a rest."_

 _A man suddenly hurried forward. "Ready to go, sir?"_

 _"Yes, I suppose."_

 _Benn and the Shopkeeper walked towards the rocks. Suddenly, Benn stopped, and turned around._

 _"Captain? Tell your allies, your underlings, your son and even yourself, one simple fact."_

 _He bowed his head. "This is not the last time we'll meet."_

 _And then, as if by magic, both were gone._

 _Captain Zero sat there for a long time, thinking about the conversation he had just had. Then he checked his list, and drew a line through yet another of the checkpoints. It read, in it's entirety, as follows:_

 ** _Meet with Mr Benn. Offer to join forces. He will refuse. Not important on face of it. But he is one of the antagonists. Good to learn in advance who you are playing this game against. Prepare._**

 _But that wasn't what Zero was thinking of. He spoke this thought out loud, bewildered and very, very interested._

 _"I have a son?"_


	62. Episode 23: Gordon and Spencer

So Spencer is fairly awesome I hope we all agree on that. Probably the second best character to be introduced in this season and certainly the second most important. I had a lot of fun writing for him, primarily due to his attitude as being Gordon BUT worse, and I hope that came across well here. Also, this episode is fine. I have issues with the quick resolution, but for the most part it'd definitely make my top ten episodes for the season. Also brought an rough end to the Captain Zero flashbacks, there'll be one or two more but not really from his perspective. And I might as well announce it here, the way I'll be writing it, Episodes 24 and 25 will be happening at around about the same time rather than a ill-defined period of time passing between them, Why is that? Well, read on, and you'll see!

This also contains a reference to one of the first other shows I included in this story, and one that surprisingly doesn't get brought up much, in the Zero story bit. Hope you recognize it and enjoy the cameo for what it is.

And now, reviews!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Yep. Still, I'll take as many last looks at the really old stuff, and my personal favourites of the shows' run, as much as I can (Yes, I know, Hasty Puddings, but still, any lookback is worth it).

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Not going to lie, so did I when I was writing it.

 **Game-Watch:** Of that, you will learn later, and I hope you like what I've done with Spencer which is, basically, turn him up to eleven.

 **MattPrice01:** I hope the Grand Plan lives up to hype! Though it's fairly mundane by comparison to some of the other plans revealed thus far. Also, cool Blackadder reference, never go wrong with one of those.

 **Streakofscarlet:** It was a tie between James and Gordon, but Thomas wasn't far behind them, and Duncan was a real dark horse.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** PISS OFF SPENCER INDEED, GOOD SIR.

 **UGX7:** It's definitely a weird decision. I was thinking of re-ordering it, but four episodes out, I really couldn't be arsed. That will be explained briefly here, and not just because I accidentally left in a plot hole. So...yeah. XD.

 **Garchomp65:** You'll see!

 **jsw:** Thank you!

 **GreatWestern1522:** You got your wish!

CUE THE THEME

* * *

It was a sunny day on the Island of Sodor, the last day of November, and all the engines were working hard. Or at least, as hard as they could work in such a situation. The smell of the seaside areas was finally beginning to ruin the minds of many engines.

Gordon was excited. And he just couldn't hide it. He thundered down the hill at such a speed that he nearly came off the rails. His driver and fireman, however, were still completely high as a kite, and thus didn't notice.

Thomas was staring off into the distance, a dopey smile on his face as he considered the fine moonshine that Henry had brought to the sheds last night. Henry was lying on the turntable, currently giggling to himself about something only he could see, while Percy had been put on shunting duty as an way to make sure he didn't accidentally end up killing someone.

"MORNING THOMAS!"

"Ahhhh good morning Benjamin!" said Thomas, fully convinced that Gordon was in fact a worm grown to giant size. "This is the shit, isn't it?"

Gordon decided that to try and unpack this moment was too much effort, and he had very little time. "I look my best, and- Well, actually, no I don't, my prime year was 1994, but this is the best I could come with on short notice, AND do you know why?"

"Why, Benjamin?" asked Thomas, who was upon a whole other level of existence at present.

"Because a Duke and Duchess are coming to this Island, and they shall be in need of a special engine! The Fat Controller shall choose ME to be that engine, because only I can make pulling just one coach look badass and not a major prick move!"

"Or it could be both." Edward muttered as he passed by.

"Wait…Duke's back?! Oh Peter Sam will be happy!"

"What? No, this is a different Duke."

"Woah. Engines can have two names that are the same?"

"…It occurs to me that I was expecting too much of you silly little bugger when I thought you were sober, I don't know I thought you high off your rocker would be any better company.

"Paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah." Thomas said, as the last of his brain-cells began to sizzle happily like bacon.

As he was dragged away to get the normal slapped back into him by the fitters, Gordon took his place and had his daily massage. It would have been far better, had not James repeatedly rushed past him shouting "BOILER SLUDGE!" at him.

"Educating Gordon Day has come and gone you lazy shite!" snarled the big blue engine.

At last, he was polished and cleaned, and so he took off once more with great joy. In retrospect, perhaps he should have gone and gotten a coach first.

A signal, however, diverted him onto a siding where he was left to fume angrily.

"I AM FUMING ANGRILY!" he said to the world at large. "I'm going to be late, and it shall be all the fault of the NORRIS CLAN!"

At which point, he caught a faint whiff of some very expensive perfume. "What the hell? Has Henry been experimenting again?"

A huge silver engine rocketed by, accompanied that Mysterious Slide Whistler and the sound of god knows how many champagne corks popping. And a loud declaration of "THE KING HAS ARRIVED, BABY!"

"I-WHAT? Steam my pistons and call me Smokey Joe, what was THAT?!"

….

Gordon soon found out, after learning that the Duke and Duchess had apparently attempted to take their pet flamingos with them on holiday. Some people, eh? There, the silver engine sat and hummed arrogantly.

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm."

And if you never thought a hum could be arrogant, well then, you had not met this engine. He was, at present, having the entire lower half of his body, tender and all, being cleaned. As in a full shower curtain had been erected and at least three attendants were attending to the needs of the engine.

"WHO ARE YOU?!" Gordon shouted, more annoyed at the humming than anything else.

"This is SPENCER!" James said, or shouted, or bellowed. "HE'S THE FASTEST ENGINE IN THA WORLD!"

"Bollocks." Gordon said, bluntly. He was impressed, though. And threatened. And very angry.

Spencer looked down his very, very large nose at Gordon. "Hmmmm. You were in the gutter last time I saw you."

"We call them sidings!"

"I know what I said. In your element, were you? PHAW PHAW PHAW!" That was his laugh. Alternatively, he had a stroke. Or both.

"I'm the Duke and Duchess's private engine! I take them everywhere! Bet all you've taken is the sweaty fat man over there trying to battle his eating addiction."

On the platform, Hatt felt insulted for a moment as he choked on his fifteen cream bun of that day.

"I'll have you know that I have TAKEN THE QUEEN!" Gordon's voice went very squeaky.

"Ha! Just the once I bet! Me and her Majesty are old pals, I bet you that if it weren't for that devilishly attractive Phillip, you'd be referring to me as your Majesty at this point!"

"Oh that is not an image I need in my head." Emily groaned.

"Silence! All right then-"

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!" Spencer screamed, at the top of his lungs. Hatt jumped backwards, James knocked into a set of buffers. Everyone looked startled. "WHAT. IS. THAT."

There was a long pause. Hatt turned to his left. "Er…what?"

"BEHIND YOU! STANDING THERE! Mouth open, fangs like RAZORS!?"

"….You mean Joe?"

"JOE!" Spencer seethed with terror and/or outrage. "Of course. It's one of those things I've heard about!"

"…Human beings?"

"A workman?"

"A functioning member of society?"

"That's it!" Spencer drew himself up to his full height and hissed the words out "A **_POOR_ ** person! I've heard of them only in myths! Is it the only one!? Quick, someone fetch an axe!"

"My word you might actually be worse than Gordon." Edward's eyes widened. "Might…actually…be….excuse me for a moment ,I am going to go and stare blankly at a wall until things make sense again."

"Right…well, the Duke and Duchess are having a fox hunting party up at Maron which I AM NOT INVITED TO." Hatt seethed. "I...I don't have a job for any of you, I just figured you ought to know."

"Bloody fox hunting, it's a crime!" Emily stormed off to Do Something About It, and you could tell it was serious, because it was in ALL CAPS.

"But that's really far away over Gordon's Hill!" James said, vastly overestimating the distance that would need to be travelled.

"Is this some slack jawed yokel expression? What is a 'hill' for those of us who prefer to live in the real world?"

No one had the energy to even comprehend that statement. "You'll need to take on plenty of water." Gordon grumpily muttered.

"HA! If I want your advice, I shall DEMAND it! Peasant! I have plenty of water! I don't listen to common tender engines like you!"

"COMMON-" Gordon was rendered temporarily speechless with rage. "I WAS TRYING TO BE HELPFUL!"

"And you failed! Much like your attempts to burst the speed records. PHAW PHAW- UGH! A speck!" And off Spencer went, racing away.

"Now that-" said James, smugly "-is what a real engine looks like!"

To that, a wide range of expletives were visited upon the red fool.

…..

While at Knapford, Spencer was coupled up to his one and only coach, tried to ignore the idea that the Duke and Duchess only really wanted the coach for the massive four poster bed inside, and started off as the whistle went, and he was finished with his Brambly Hedge 96 Vintage Wine.

He showed them many beautiful places. Such as the Badger-Culling Area, where Old Man Norris beat badgers with a large stick until they stopped moving. OR the Lecherous Old Goats Club, which was literally a group of old goats owned by rich people humping each other. The goats...not the rich people. I assume. And other such things that I presume the upper class enjoy.

He never stopped once to take on water. Unless it was actually red wine, he thought it vulgar.

Thomas and Gordon were picking up passengers at Wellsworth when Spencer rocketed past, the Phantom Slide Whistler striking once more.

"DON'TFORGETTOTAKEONWATER!" Gordon shouted to the Great Burk. But he was ignored, promptly.

"WHO CARES?!"

"There may be trouble ahead." Thomas remarked. "But while there's moonlight-"

"Oh shut the hell up." Gordon muttered, not even having enough energy to rant and rave at the little blue bastard.

…

"So I said to him, I said "Tony, chum of mine, listen, who cares if you started a war in incredibly dodgy circumstances just so you could be tight with your other chum, the fool in the White House! Bottom line is, if you don't run for Prime Minister, you shall kick yourself!" And he said to me, he said "Spencer, oh gorgeous mounteback that you are, will you-" Then I said-" Spencer paused. "I say, there appears to be something wrong!"

Spencer's story was rudely interrupted as he came to an abrupt stop halfway up Gordon's Hill. "I say!" He bellowed. "Driver, have you been at the shebert again?!"

"We're not moving!?" The Duke said, sticking his top hat covered head out of the window. It was the only part of him that was remotely covered.

"Why didn't you take on water, you FOOL?!" Spencer shouted at the driver. "Now we'll never be able to exterminate all those dirty foxes at this rate!" He glanced back down the line. "Oh, there's a tower there!"

"I say!" The Duke narrowed his eyes. "Is that a workman?"

"GAH! Another one of those _**POOR** _ people! This Island is a nesting ground for the little vipers!"

…..

"He's what?"

"Refusing our help. He keeps screaming that we're going to infect him with our minimum wages and Bankruptcy, and the rest." The signalman sounded very confused. "He also seems to think that we've come to cut the Duke's head off."

"….Have you?"

"Well sir, if we were intending to, we'd have to wait for the Duke and the Duchess to get their clothes back on. And also to dispose of the….many instruments that they have in the coach."

"Oh, they are musically gifted? They never mentioned that."

"….Sure, that's what I'm talking about."

"I shall send….eeny meeny- Oh screw it, send Gordon to deal with it. And I'll come down and rub it in the Duke's face."

"Oh it's that kind of party, is it, sir?"

"MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER."

…

Gordon arrived at the station just in time for the stationmaster to give the news. "You've got to move Spencer off the hill."

"Ho ho ho! Well it appears that the boot is on the other hand now, isn't it?" Gordon paused, wondered if he had buggered up the saying and then decided to go off and gloat to Spencer.

In the background, Edward could be seen, still in the middle of trying to comprehend the idea that Gordon was the lesser of two evils in this situation.

Spencer was in the middle of screaming at the sight of a huge, ferocious monster (A sheep) when Gordon arrived, looking….okay, apparently the wind blew and his face got stuck in a miserable expression, so we'll just assume that he's excited and smug and his normal self. "Run out of water?" He asked innocently.

"Take your smelly peasant attitude and stick it!" snarled Spencer.

"How rude! Is that what you said to her majesty?"

"My tank must be leaking do to one of those DIRTY hobos you have on this Island! That's it! It's one of those people on BENEFITS!"

"Of course. Of course. Alternatively, you're just a knacker who should really shut his mouth. You're keeping everyone waiting!"

Somewhere, back down the line, Edward snapped out his depressive funk to let out a loud and mocking "HA!" before sinking back into the quagmire of bafflement.

Gordon was soon coupled up to Spencer, and after making sure that he was suitably prepared, started off up the track. For the first time, it was he who was helping someone else up the hill.

He would not stop going on about this for the next two to three months.

…..

"So, where's Emily?"

"Ah, she said that the smell of old rich people makes her nauseous."

"Ah."

Thomas and James were left silent as they mulled over trying to start an actual conversation that did not revolve around the Island itself.

"Soooooo."

"Yeeeeep."

"SEE WE'RE RIGHT ON TIME!"

"Oh thank god!" shouted the two engines as one, as an embarrassed Spencer was dragged in by Gordon.

"What do you think of Spencer now?" whispered Thomas to James. This, as can be expected, was a mistake.

"TOO MUCH PUFF AND NOT ENOUGH STEAM!"

"Wow, okay, shout it out, why don't you? Whisper for god's sake!"

"I AM WHISPERING!"

"Well done, you are the fastest engine on Sodor-Oh, we're wrapping up!? Gordon, say something for the last scene of the episode."

"Uh, er, I know that?"

"….That was crap." Sir Topham sighed. "Still, now that I am here with the Duke and Duchess, let us get the hunt underway!" He paused. "Hmm, what's that sound?"

"BE FREE, MY BROTHERS!" shouted Emily, as a whole herd of foxes ran through the station and to safety.

"UGH! Women!"

One long beatdown later, Emily was taken away to have a quiet nap as Spencer tried to recover what little remained of his dignity and awe-inspiring attitude, and failed miserably when he tripped through a time portal, landed back in an earlier episode and then fell back through the time portal again. He then decided to go home and pretend this day never happened.

…..

"So Duck, how are you faring?"

Duck groaned. "Well, I've had worse. Fairly sure that one of my cellmates thinks I'm quite attractive, but it's okay. We're engines. So none of that funny business." He let out a long sigh. "Pretty bloody tired though."

"Hmm…..so what happened?"

"Uh, I'd got done with my last train. Saw D1, and he started to taunt me. I went after him, didn't touch him. We just had a chat."

"He tell you anything?"

"Mostly just…stuff we all figured out. He said that Zero was involved, which I told Fergus and I have to assume we should take with a pinch of salt. That the whole 'boxes' thing was just a ploy to make us think overly complex plans and such. And that the enemy's got a massive foothold on the Island through relatively legal means." Duck grimaced. "He had this turret with him, like the ones we used in the Battle of Sodor? Turned on him, he was completely shocked."

"Right." Edward glanced around. "Now, thing is, can't tell you much, but we've decided to move Oliver to somewhere safer. Fergus is leaving with him this afternoon. Can't say where, but we need to get him somewhere with…you know, actual facilities for this sort of stuff. We figure that with the Iron Circle locking down their hatches, they'll not be paying much attention to some of the old backroutes and stuff."

"Smart. Why didn't they ever approach you?"

Edward frowned. "I'll be honest with you, it's the Sodor thing. Too many idiots and too many accidents, it leaves a bad impression." He went sombre for a moment. "And another thing….which we won't get into now!" He offered a weary smile. "We'll get you out. Even if it's not in time for Christmas, I'm sure Percy'll give you some stuff. Maybe a bit of mistletoe for your amorous trackmate."

"Don't start."

Edward paused. "Worse than Gordon." And he broke down once more.

…..

 _HALIFAX HARBOUR, THE PAST._

 _"Good morning sir, I'm Theodore Tugboat." The tug offered one of those incredibly painful smiles that suggested he was secretly screaming inside. "How may I assist you?"_

 _The man smiled. "Just a wee check up, lad. There are rumours that there have been some strange goings on around here. Some….arsehole stealing shipments from around these parts."_

 _Theodore chuckled grimly. "You can say that again, eh?" He swallowed. "Trying to cut down on the stereotypes. Uh, yes, as far as we can tell, this guy's good. He's a one man crew, so it's been said. Unless there's a random gang of twenty men who have the same height, same comical accent and same rather pungent smell."_

 _"I'll sure." He clicked his pen. "Got a name for this person?"_

 _"Well, we heard someone call him John, so we've taken to calling him Sailor John for the most part."_

 _"Bit of a simple name, isn't it?"_

 _"It's the cleanest one we have."_

 _"Ah."_

 _"Yes." Theodore glanced out, mournfully. "We really don't need it atop of everything else. I'm a tour guide now, apparently. Our show dried up a year or so ago, so we're all stuck in the water, or we'll get shoved in some museum somewhere." He grimaced. "Reminds me of the Star Tugs, what's happening here?"_

 _"Oh?" The man's interest was piqued. "Whatever happened ta them?"_

 _"Several of them went under in the war, or so they say, some made it to here, got repaired and were sent back out, looking for the others. Still are by all accounts." Theodore shook his head sadly. "And those who stayed probably had the same thing happen to them as it is with me. Not tugs any more, just there for gawkers to stare at. Terrible thing to happen."_

 _"Aye." The man smiled despite his words. "Terrible thing."_

 _"Our time is coming to an end, sir. We're a dying breed, us talking vehicles, you'd never know it, but we are. The novelty's worn off now."_

 _"Ye have little idea how right ye are."_

 _…_

 _"You could have killed him."_

 _"Would that have endeared you to me?"_

 _"….No." The Malignance frowned. "Not necessary, I suppose. I have no doubt that the scum he and his friends have aligned him with will eventually turn on them in time." He let out a long sigh. "Ah….it went well on my part, by the by."_

 _"Oh?"_

 _"I have secured more fortuitous residences than this area. It was surprisingly easy, though it should probably go without saying that I'd like to be absolutely sure that we've got a proper foothold on the Island before we move."_

 _Zero smirked. "You pick up on things quickly. You've got a keen head for business."_

 _"I've not got a keen head at all." The Malignance hissed. "This carcass bores me. ..However, there is A solution to that which…we will discuss when we come to it. You wish to meet your son?"_

 _"I do. Jenny's fine, I guess, but a son who is fully on our side means that there's going to less resistance for when we inevitably tear down the Island."_

 _"I wish you good luck."_

 _Zero smirked. "I don't need it."_

…

The first day of December.

It was early morning. The snow was falling upon the tracks, though conspicuously not in certain areas where one might expect it to fall, and the engines were all bracing themselves for the cold and unpleasant task that was to come.

Somewhere else, a very cold and unpleasant spirit made it's way back onto the Island, on the back of a flatbed pulled by an Other Railway diesel. _"All right then."_ It hissed to more Other Railway diesels, all waiting. " _If you can, attend to both the Caledonian engines and the Great Western, but at the very least, make sure that our jailbird doesn't sing any more. I have business to attend to up at the mountains."_ Ivo Hugh's possessed body slipped off onto the Narrow Gauge tracks, and with a groan, the Malignance began to move forward.

And suddenly he stopped.

 _"Ahhh….so you're here too."_ He said, softly. _"No matter. The little diesel and his traitorous brethren die tonight. You cannot stop me, Lady."_

And he set off.

After tonight, nothing was going to be the same again.


	63. Episode 24: Not So Hasty Puddings

I'm so glad everyone liked what I did with Spencer! It was a ton of fun writing him and we're...coming down somewhat from that to do this. So let be honest here. This episode is a bit of a mess. As is my attempts to get something funny out of it, in all honesty. I've gone over this as best as I can, so I apologize if it's not as good as you were hoping. The scene at the end is legitimately one of the funnest ones to writes for me, at least given the callbacks to Season 2 that I decided to throw in there for the hell of it. Nothing is ever going to be the same again after that scene. And don't forget, the next chapter takes place simultaneously alongside this one (Namely, the episode portion in the day, the story portion in the night). So enjoy that!

And now, reviews!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Thank you! Yes, I've always had a fixed idea of what Spencer was going to be, so I had a lot of fun with that. I think it's the best episode I've come out with for a while.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : That means a lot, making you laugh! Yeah, Theodore is a real throwback, used primarily to get across the idea of an age ending and because I've been referencing it since at least Season 3.

 **Game-Watch:** Thanks! God it was fun to do!

 **MattPrice01:** Ah, nay bother, nay bother. I get it, Doctor Who can be quite draining, especially the serial stuff! Hope you had a fun time watching it!

 **Streakofscarlet:** It's fine! I like guesses like that!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** I'm glad you enjoyed it! And yes, the die is rolling!

 **UGX7:** It's fine about the errors, at this point I decided to just leave them for the time being, but I appreciate you noticing them. I imagine that the rest of the tugs have been doing other jobs in the interim as well, just that Theodore is the most obvious one to draw a comparison to given the existence of an actual ship.

 **Hughie99:** I won't ask for your theory yet, but as we've only got one season between this and the big reveal, I will be interested to see if it's correct! And yes, Arthur and Murdoch should have been used more, but I'm glad they pop up a few times in the New Series so I can keep on using them.

 **jsw:** They're not barbarians, after all! Just stupid!

 **T501:** She's kinda all sorts isn't she? A lot of that has to do with the fact that really, the series for the next four seasons have equally about as much clue as I do, so I've been trying new things. I'm on a good thing thus far, I think, but that could change as we go along, so *shrugs*.

 **Acehoneycomb:** It's a mixture of a few things at this point. Firstly, this last season is not nearly as good as the ones preceding it, but nowhere near as awful as the show gets in the following years. Therefore, writing this has been less fun this time around when there's not a massive character involved that I can make say ridiculous things. Secondly, I've also been working on a fanfiction for another work that requires a LOT of stuff to make it work, so I've been focusing on that. So I am hard at work, it's just that there's a lot of things happening at present. And WHO knows with the Red Balloon and Norris...though perhaps it might! The TUGS characters will be coming into action AT SOME POINT. I haven't worked out where because I've got a lot of things to be doing in the next few seasons, but they will make a return.

CUE THE THEME

* * *

ONE DAY EARLIER.

It was Christmas time on the Island of Sodor. Technically speaking, it had been since mid-October, but such was the state of things that it was only now being declared as such. It was a grim Christmas, with overcast skies that looked as though they'd either chuck down snow or, shudder, hail at any given moment.

The engines were all engaged in hard work, as per the norm, with Henry being forced into taking the Flying Kipper AGAIN. Luckily, this time he only suffered third degree burns on his tender due to the unfortunate incident with the stork and the flamethrower, of which not much needs to be said.

The Fat Controller's engines were working themselves to the wheel, as it was, given that the fat man himself wanted to lock up the railway and go to sleep for a month once the twenty fifth came around. The lazy git. In theory this made them all feel really reliable, but in truth, it made them feel really riled up! That's wordplay there, that is.

Also, yes that is Duck moving about in the foreground. Look, what do you want from me? I've got LITERALLY nothing to justify this, I'm running out of excuses. Maybe it's his long lost brother GOOSE. Stock footage was once again the saviour, and creator, of many continuity issues!

…..

"Ugh!" declared Thomas, in a such a manner that indicated he wanted people to look at him and comment. "UGH!" He paused. "UUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGH!"

No one listened.

"Today cannot get any wor-"

"OI! YOU!"

"Oh sweet salty shit no."

Elizabeth had arrived, looking her usual cheerful self (I.E. Like someone had shoved thirteen lemons into her mouth all at once), with Thomas's snowplough. Grinding his teeth, the tank engine waited for her to make her usual stop.

Once the pain of her noggin coming into contact with the bottom half of his face subsided, and the driver had apologized for not checking the brakes, the two of them glared at each other in an angry and unwieldy fashion. The other engines decided to double down on ignoring this.

"I don't need THAT silly old thing any more." Thomas said. "It's the twenty first century, I'm sure they make fashionable snowploughs! I want one with glitter!"

"Stuff and nonsense!" snapped Elizabeth. "You're not one anyway, but if you want to be a reliable engine, you have to get through the snow, little bugger!"

"YOU WOULDN'T BE HEAR RIGHT NOW IF I WEREN'T RELIABLE!" fumed Thomas, throwing a tantrum.

"You mean when you broke down outside of my shed?"

"SCREW YOU GRANDMA!"

"On the contrary, whippersnapper, if anyone is doing the screwing around here, IT'S ME!"

"I'd screw you so BLOODY HARD!" There was an audible pause, as the three big engines turned to look at Thomas in silent judgement. "You know what I mean!" He protested, weakly.

"It's okay, Thomas." Gordon said, in a way that sounded too Gordon-y to be comforting. "If you fancy the older birds-"

"I HATE ALL OF YOU SO MUCH!"

…..

"Stupid Liz, stupid Gordon, stupid old people, STUPID SNOWPLOUGH! This is the worst Christmas EVER!"

"Thomas, it's been an hour, let it go!"

"I WILL NOT, CLARABEL! She is rude and vile and OLD, and this snowplough makes my buffers ache, it can kiss my arse and did I mention she's OLD!"

"Typical!" said Annie "We go silent for a few years and he resets back to his old ways!"

"And you can pipe down and all! You're not paid to be speaking characters any more!" Thomas was in a foul mood as he pulled into Maithwaite. Thr Fat Controller was there, and he was passionately talking to Elizabeth.

"TRAGEDY! WOE! A POX UPON OUR HOUSES! IT IS THE END, IS IT NOT?" He threw himself upon the ground and began to cry, slamming his fists upon the ground. Thomas felt a bit embarrassed, tell the truth, and Elizabeth just looked tired.

"Spit it out, chubs! What's going on, eh?"

"It's…It's….THE PUDDING FACTORY!"

 _And the world's equilibrium is restored,_ thought Thomas.

"It's been snowed in and the Christmas Puddings have been left without HOMES to go to! God those starving kids in Africa have no idea how good they've got it! The poor puddings! They must be removed to the dock, and to my stomach, before the ship sails for the mainland!"

"We have a pudding factory?"

"News to me, Clarabel."

Thomas didn't want this job. He didn't want to do anything other than crawl back to his shed and never move again. But, making sure Elizabeth wasn't getting extra-pay was good by him. "I can go and do the job!"

Hatt glared at him. "I'm not stupid you know. You have an unfortunate track record with snow, that plough and your own confidence separately. Put all three together and-" He shuddered. "I daren't take that chance! What if the puddings were harmed?! Oh, and I guess you're needed on the line. She knows the roads better than most, AND she's not going to throw a wobbly and kill my babies- I mean, damage the puddings just because they see a little eeny-teeny-weenie snowflake."

"You have a problem." Thomas said, bluntly.

"She's also reliable."

"I'M RELIABLE TOO!" wailed Thomas.

"Not enough, apparently, eh?"

Thomas nearly threw off his shackles and began to consider if a tank engine could body slam…well, anything. It ended up being the case that as he ranted, Toby would have to follow the blue engine around, making sure that all of his deliveries were made right on time and not in the middle of next May, as had happened six Christmases ago in an event which must never be spoken of.

….

"Ohhhhh I should not have had that whiskey!"

Elizabeth was having a rough old time of it. Her wheels slipped on the icy road, which should have been foreseen given that she could give Methuselah a run for his money in the old age department.

The fact that Bulgy had apparently gone missing, and therefore meant that she had to briefly drop off his load of vegetables didn't help matters.

Terrance was in what appeared to be a pensive mood, even as he continued to smile at everything, as Thomas arrived to pick him up. "Where's the old bat?" He asked as it became clear that Elizabeth had not returned.

"Edward's right here!"

"SCREW YOU GORDON!" shouted Edward, who was currently trying and failing to get drunk.

"Whole lot of screwing going around." Emily remarked to no one in particular.

"THE SHIP WILL MISS THE TIDE!" droned one of the…drones representing the Railway Board, who was technically the dock manager. Technically in the sense that the actual dock manager was floating in the briny sea about five miles away on the verge of drowning.

"I WON'T GET A CHRISTMAS PUDDING! …Also, the children. No puddings for them!" Hatt backtracked. "Go, look for her, and also make sure she takes her inhaler, her asthma is killing her!"

"I didn't know she had asthma."

"You don't know a lot about her!"

"No, I don't care to. Perhaps she isn't so reliable after all!"

"Oh you are just wonderful, aren't you?! Get to work, Tommy!"

….

"Here we are, the very important-"

"How are we going to edit the sign, Britt?"

"What, David?"

"The sign. Apparently the yanks don't have puddings, so we've got to call them 'cakes' for whatever reason."

"David, we're leaving in like, a month, let the new lot handle that. …Sorry, continue!"

"….These are the very important puddings that the Fat Controller informed us were needed for the children and also his belly." The manager of the pudding factory, unaffectionate nicknamed Mr Wobbly Man, drew himself to his full, unimpressive height and glanced at Elizabeth. "Deliver them well!"

"Those look like bowling balls painted in the colours of a pudding."

"SHUSH!"

"Ah well, Hatt will be disappointed and he's relying on me. Also, I want to see the expression on his face when he tries to eat one of these!"

"You're a sadist, Elizabeth."

She headed onto the icy road with a lot more confidence than she had been when approaching the pudding factory. And then she passed out. When she awoke, she was somehow on a hill. "How the hell did that hap-OH BUGGER!"

The driver applied the brakes.

As per usual, it did not help. She smacked straight into a snowdrift and concussed herself. The driver decided to enjoy this rare moment of peace by leaving Elizabeth to freeze. If it were anyone else, it would be a crime. It was Elizabeth, though, so it was not.

Thomas and Terrance chuffed through the snow. Well, Terrance didn't chuff, he sort of sat there and looked cheerfully on as Thomas got battered with snowfall after snowfall.

They spotted her driver making his escape. "She's buried under the snow! You'll need help to dig her out! And you won't get it from me! FREEDOM!"

"What a charming man." Terrance remarked as the driver rushed away, straight into a frozen lake. "All right, it's time for my music!"

"Oooh, we're actually running out of film, so we can't actually afford to put Don't Judge a Book By It's Cover on…sorry."

"Typical."

Terrance rescued her in literally no time. It was quite anti-climatic, all things being considered.

"We need to get a move on, you old bat!" Thomas stared in horror as his driver and fireman held up large cards with a script on it. "Never mind, it was not your fault at all, you elderly darling, it was the slippery snow. The CGI slippery snow. Wow we went downhill very fast! Just like you, eh? AHAHAHAHA….This episode sucks."

"Tell me about it." Elizabeth seethed. As they departed, Thomas wondered if he had forgotten something.

Terrance watched as his free ride vanished out of sight. "Hmm." He said. "He will be spared. For now."

…

"MINE!" screamed the Fat Controller. "Oh, and I'm glad you're safe Elizabeth and we'll get you unlaoded, but PUDDINGS!"

"Now the kids get Christmas pud, I guess?" Thomas just really wanted to get this episode over with.

"WELL DONE NOW LET ME EAT MY FOOD!"

He grabbed a fork and stabbed it into the 'pudding'. It broke. The fork, that is, not the pudding. "IT'S FROZEN!"

"It's not a pudding."

"What? NO PUDDING!?".

"Both reliable then, I guess. Not reliable enough to deal with this shit though."

Thomas, for once, agreed. Sir Topham Hatt wailed as he was dragged off to subside upon subpar fruitcake instead.

….

 _THE PAST._

 _"So that's it, pretty much." Zero glanced up at the sky. "Hang on, was it night when we started?"_

 _"You have been talking for near fifteen hours telling me every little detail, ye barnacle covered sod! I had to take a whizz on Davy Jones's head before me bladder burst!" John sat down. "So, why now? Why after all this time? What do ye want from me?"_

 _"Aren't you bored of the pirate life?"_

 _"No. Better than being in the navy. Moral codes me arse!"_

 _"All right. I can make you very rich. Richer than you can possible imagine."_

 _"Oh aye?" John drained the last bottle of scotch and tossed it in the water. "Listen Pa, you could offer me a lot of treasure and it still wouldn't be-" He paused as a large drawing was placed upon his lap. "-enough."_

 _"This right here is what I know as King Godred's Crown. I was one of the group who manipulated the foolish king into an early and very wet grave, so I've got a fair understanding of where the crown might be. it's worth billions, literally. Every antique dealer and historian will be fighting tooth and claw for this thing. And then there's this little beauty." Another picture, this time of a large pirate ship and treasure chest. "This right here once belonged to a man by the name of Captain Calles, by all accounts he'd be your type of man. He marooned his ship and buried his treasure on the Island of Sodor, and then sailed off with a map in hand. Then he was killed, as pirates tend to, by a rival by the name of Pugwash. He took the map, and then after a few incidents where things just all went to pot for him and his barely animated crew, he was hung, leaving the map to fall to various people over time, until it came to my possession. Now-" He handed a map over to John. "-this is yours. Thing is, the Island itself shifts constantly, so you can't rely on that until we've fully taken control. You're smart, you're navy trained before you got thrown out, and you're my son. We both want to survive and get rich doing so."_

 _Captain Zero leaned in and looked at Sailor John._

 _"Now-" he said "-let me tell you what's happening as I speak."_

….

THE PRESENT.

Duck sighed. "Okay, so…plan A to get out of here has failed. Who knew that a bedsheet ladder out of the window wouldn't work when there are no bedsheets for an engine? Or, for that matter, a window. So Plan B."

He paused.

There was a loud roar of gunfire.

"Oh." He said, quietly.

Duck's driver raced around the corner. "I think it's time-"

The gunshot blew his chest out straight away, and he collapsed forward, lurching out one last breath before he hit the floor, dead as a doornail. The fireman followed not too long afterwards, still alive, but with a massive shiner upon his face.

"It's up to you now, Duck!" cried the fireman.

Then a bullet to the head put paid to that.

The gunmen raised their weapons at Duck, who having most of his gadgets removed and stuck in a siding, had nowhere to go. He stared at them, and said what he hoped would be some very cool last words.

"To hell with you!"

Unfortunately, they didn't sound nearly as cool out loud when compared to in his head.

Then…something happened. The world went white for a moment, and the entire front area of the prison seemed to vanish, gunmen and bodies and all.

Then seconds later, the unsmiling face of Terence the Tractor, currently wearing a very in-season hat that had once been Bulgy the Double Decker Bus, arrived, glaring at Duck and uttering one word and one word alone, with freedom now in front of him.

"Run."

And Duck did.

Behind him, he heard loud curses and screams and varying levels of hysteria, as Terence presumably cleaned house. He didn't want to ask what Terrance was doing, and he was happy to keep it that way. But as he launched forward, he became aware that he was being followed.

"Chase him!"

"Bump him!"

"THROW HIM FROM THE RAILS!"

With a sense of déjà vu, Duck realised that the chase was, once again, on. Five diesels, , were after him, and unlike the last few times he had had to fight the diesels off, he had nothing but his wits and a boundless amount of energy from being still in the jail.

He raced through Edward's station, but the attackers were catching up.

I can go as fast as I can, but they'll catch me, gradually, Duck thought as hooting and hollering, the hounds slowly gained.

And then, as if answering a prayer he hadn't been aware he had said, the diesels screeched like engines possessed and left the rails entirely of someone else's volition, smashing to the sides and hurtling into trees or into a ravine. Duck didn't look back as he raced across the viaduct, but he heard two very familiar accents.

"YER CLEAR!"

"GO IT, YE WEE SOD!"

Thank you, twins, Duck thought in relief, as he regained control. A clear mile through Crosby and hopefully I can find a way to get to Vicarstown. That should do it. Then, as he approached, he realized in horror that there was someone up ahead blocking the track. And not just anyone.

"Oh glory, look at that!" He found himself whispering, almost as nostalgia took over for whatever reason.

The Juggernaut was standing on the points straight ahead. Any minute and there would be one hell of a fatal crash.

He put every ounce of weight and steam into charging ahead, sparks flying from his wheels and the sleepers, his brake-blocks burning up and his side rods buckling under the sheer pressure.

Ah well, he thought pragmatically, it's not a barber shop at least.

And then, salvation. From the side of the tracks, a very bloodied and angry tractor roared towards the Juggernaut. The latter, shocked, staggering backwards just enough for Duck to cross the points and urge himself onwards.

He veered, sharply, around bend after bend, aware rather painfully that he had no chance of going it alone in the mainland with everything that was going on.

It was a good thing then, he thought as he saw two delightfully familiar figures draw up alongside him, that he was not alone.

Duck, Donald and Douglas charged over the Vicarstown Bridge and straight into the mainland. Duck wondered if they'd miss him. Because, and he would never admit this to anyone except maybe Percy-

He was going to miss them a hell of a lot.

But what of the Malignance?

Well, that's another story.


	64. Episode 25: Trusty Rusty

So, er, here's a turn up for the books. This episode...was actually pretty bloody good for me, at least. Standard, oh yeah, but at the same time, I had a lot of fun watching it, even if the story is bog-common at this point. Maybe it's just because it's the last time we got the old Skarloey themes and so on, but I had a lot of fun watching this and writing it.

Next time, it's the end. And...I'm honestly not really ready for it to be. But you know how it is.

 **AaronCottrell97:** Oh don't get me wrong, it's perfectly fine, but coming from the person who has to WRITE around things like this, it's a pretty boring one that doesn't offer much. Still enjoyable though, because Classic Series.

 **Game-Watch:** Thanks a lot!

 **MattPrice01:** Heatstroke'll do that to you. XD. Glad you enjoyed it!

 **Saffron Panther:** That makes a lot of sense, actually. The imagination is far creepier at filling in the blanks than reality is, I think. And Terrance frowning is certainly creepy. Yes, thank you for the kind words! It means a lot, and hey, you're correct, better late than never!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** All good ideas, definitely something to think about, hope you enjoy what you see when we get there.

 **UGX7:** Yeah the weirdness of the release schedule is something I'll never get.

 **Garchomp65:** You'll see!

 **jsw:** It was the ONE WHEELED ENGINE that did it!

 **GreatWestern1522:** Hope you enjoy it!

 **Acehoneycomb:** It's been explained a bit here, and I hope you like it! Both the plan and the little white flash.

 **Guest 1:** Yep! See you later Cowboy...somewhere, someday!

 **Guest 2:** You know me too well!

CUE THE THEME

* * *

"Ah Stepney. The times, they are a-changing."

Stepney nodded gravely. "Remember when it used to just be you and me running this little patch of line, and we'd keep seeing each other every so often? It'd be fun, wasn't it?"

"It was."

Rusty and Stepney looked at each other, both lost in memories. Stepney was leaving soon, in order to make sure that Boxhill, Fergus and the injured Oliver got across the Mainland as best as they could.

"Until we meet again, Rusty. And thank you for everything."

"Thanks mate." Rusty smiled, bravely. "We are going to see each other again."

"Oh absolutely. Bluebells forever."

They looked at each other for a moment longer.

"Goodbye Stepney."

"Goodbye Rusty."

And off Stepney went.

…..

Rusty was in a pensive mood that winter's day, It didn't help that once more they had to go about and do the really awkward jobs that no one else wanted to do, namely fix the bloody shite track that ran through the mountains. Well, limped would be more accurate, really, considering the state of it. Making sure that the tracks, bridges and tunnels were all in good working order was near impossible, so below adequate was the standard for which they aimed for.

And even then, they more often than not missed.

On that day, they crossed the old wooden bridge.

"Another one of these!" Rusty hissed scornfully. "Did the workmen not learn from the last one? Or was it just in fashion to use bad working materials?"

"Now now!" said Mr Hugo, the man in charge of repairs. "That's no way to talk about Old Billy-Joe Norris. You know the slack jawed yokel 'ain't been quite right in the brainbox' lately."

"Why are so many people named Norris on this Island?!" Rusty snapped. Then they groaned as they hit a big bump in the track. "Those brainbox issues? He's not gone and lain down there has he? That felt distinctly body shaped then."

"There are cracks in the support!" The driver explained.

"That could be dangerous!" said Rusty, going through the motions at this point. "We must WARN the engines, whom will of course ignore my warnings and then go slap bang into the…well, river's not the word for it, maybe stream? Babbling brook? I mean I've seen more dangerous fishbowls."

The engines were waiting for their coal when Rusty arrived. Peter Sam was in deep conversation with Mr Rabbit about the woes of being an unemployed father. Peter Sam felt deeply moved by the rabbit's plight, so moved that he ignored the questioning looks offered by the other engines.

"Don't use the old wooden bridge!"

"Which one?" asked Rheneas and Skarloey.

"Oh, any of them, but one of them specifically. It's real dangerous and all!"

They paused, and waited. And sure enough.

"How would ye know? Yer only a diesel."

"Duncan, I thought we were over our hatred for each other." Rusty sighed wearily. "Because it's my job to know. And also because engine + water = bad juju. But hey, who here wants to listen to logic, am I right Peter Sam?"

"Mr Rabbit, NO! Divorce should not be the first thing you think of! Have you tried counselling?"

"Yep. That's about right." Rusty sighed, sadly as Duncan steamed away without even getting his coal. When things changed they were sad, when things stayed the same they were sad.

Rusty could not win.

….

Nonetheless, they hurried to chat to the Fat Hatt, who was too busy mourning the loss of his delicious puddings to really do anything than offer generic platitudes. "Right, well, thank you. I guess. Engineers will go and do stuff I suppose, and no one is to use the bridge."

"Why are you telling ME this?! And not the others? Say, Duncan?!"

"LEAVE ME ALONE RUSTY! HOW CAN YOU BE SO CALLOUS WHEN PUDDINGS ARE BEING LEFT ON THE STREETS, ABANDONED AND UNEATEN!?"

"…Context, sir?"

"Screw your context!"

The driver put a sign up with the words 'LINE CLOSED' written upon it, so that the engines had to travel a different way. Rusty's suggestion of maybe using a large trampoline that could bounce any errant engines back should the sign not be abundantly clear about what was ahead was ignored completely. Perhaps if it had, what happened next would not have happened.

Then again, this is Duncan we speak of. Duncan, whom in his search for more coal to reach the sheds, managed to ignore the massive stacks of coal nearly everywhere he went. As he finally spotted one bunker, he realised in disgust that it was empty.

"Bother!" He said, as he glared at Skarloey, who tried to not let the alcohol in the breath get to him. "I'll nae be able to get home without coal!"

"I can give you a push, boyo!"

"Nae thanks, I dinnae want to end up in a lake. Where's the nearest coal bunker?"

"On the other side of the old wooden bridge. But you can't cross, Rusty says that it's not safe for you to do so." Skarloey wondered if he was deliberately waving the red flag at the bull-headed engine.

"ACH! Rusty always makes things sound worse than they are!" And so, the self-serving memory possessing git swaggered off, with his driver drunkenly suggesting that:

"Things won't be THAT bad. One trip can't hurt."

Clearly he had not been paying attention for the last three seasons.

When they arrived at the junction, the driver removed the sign, and Duncan began to snicker at the mental image of Rusty's outraged face. He was being very childish at the moment, but he felt that it was for the greater good and all.

There was a loud clatter, and Duncan hissed to a halt mid-way across the bridge. "Hmmmmmm." He declared, realising perhaps that he had made the tiniest of mistakes. "This is a right mess ye've gotten us into."

"What did I do?!" protested the driver.

"I'm out of steam! Ye should have been better-Whet's that?!" He said, in an even more exaggerated accent than normal, as something hit the water with a plop.

The bridge was collapsing.

Duncan dealt with this well.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

….

"Rusty, just so you know, Duncan's gone across the bridge."

"HE'S DONE-Oh why am I even remotely surprised any more! You bloody idiot, you were supposed to stop him from doing shit like that AGAIN!"

"What, am I omnipresent?"

"SIMPLY BEING PRESENT WOULD BE ENOUGH!" Rusty snarled as once more they headed off to try and save Duncan. Again.

Duncan meanwhile was regretting all the choices he had made, as a large section of timber cracked underneath him.

"HELPPPPP! I'M GOING TA FALL!"

Rusty practically rocketed down the mountain towards the other side of the bridge, somehow managing to cross it without going across the dangerous bridge. They swore that Duncan did this shit on purpose sometimes. As they reached the bridge, they caught sight of Duncan, who had never looked so scared.

Okay readers of this work of fiction, we are going to hold, for the first time ever, a competition. I want you to give me a scenario where Duncan has looked this scared, because it HAS happened. Send your answers, on a postcard, to...well, a random address reallyto win a free copy of the Jeremiah Jobling CD, 'Those Damn Bootlaces, Eh?'.

Or don't.

Rusty started forward bravely, stepping onto the bridge and coupling up to Duncan as more and more of the bridge began to disintegrate.

"Hold on." Rusty hissed. "And don't make a sound!"

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" shouted Duncan, unhelpfully. The little diesel tugged him forward…and forward.

Until at last, he was off the bridge, which shattered completely.

"So what do ye think he's going to say this time?" Duncan asked, wearily.

…..

"DIIIIISGRACEFUL!"

"I agree, Skarloey trying to look like me is disgraceful!" Duncan glared at Skarloey, who was using a face-mask to mock the silly Scot.

"That was irresponsible and stupid and DID I MENTION I HUNGER?!"

"Yes sir! I'm sorry sir! Never happen again, sir! Rusty ye were very brave."

"Yeah, you really are a really useful engine."

"Thank you sir."

And thus the episode ended.

But as the cameras stopped rolling, and the engines settled down to sleep, Duncan spoke up once more. "Rusty? Psst?"

"I am not. I've hardly touched a drop!"

"….Wha-"

"Sorry, subtle humour."

"I really am sorry."

"Yeah, course you are."

"It's just….I wanted to make things like they were."

Rusty opened their eyes. "Huh? What the hell does that mean?"

"Well….Stepney came up here a few days ago and talked about having to leave. And he said that he was sure ye were going to miss him. And he asked me if I couldn't help ye along a little bit."

"By….falling to your death off a bridge?"

"Nae, that wasnae the plan. I was going to go across, then ye'd come and do yer thing. Ye know, where we have banter and ye save my life and I thank ye and we all have a big laugh. It's funny, it's always been funny."

"….I honestly much preferred it when we were getting along."

"Heh. So did I, weirdly, ye smelly diesel."

"….How about an alliance?"

"Sure, if ye like. I'll try not to get killed just to prove a point to ye."

"Ta." Rusty sighed. "I'm going for a stroll."

…

 _THE PAST._

 _And Sailor John listened._

 _"The Fat Director made the mistake of assuming that it was merely a case of freeing the evil, and letting it loose. And to be fair, it was. For the evil, and ONLY that evil. He was a terrible businessman in that sense, no idea how to think ahead with regards to that sort of stuff. But me? I've been planning this con for ages now. Tell me something, do you know whom have been providing the main services that put the Island back together after that battle? Myself._

 _I've been in contact with Miss Jenny. Under the guise of a spinoff, I've got footage of my- Sorry, HER Pack rebuilding the Island's buildings under my say so. I've sunk money into schools, warehouses, community centres, libraries, football fields, racetracks, dairy farms, parade floats, crossings, duck ponds the saving of old forests, demolishing death traps, hell, even the reconstruction of the towns and cities and villages that the bombing and the shooting and the killing took out. And they will remember that as I pour even more money into the construction of more mills, more stations, more factories, more jobs will become available, and they'll wonder why I was able to do in two years what the North Western Railway and the Mayor have failed to do in at least twenty years!"_

 _"But….pa, the engines?"_

 _"The engines….ah….do you know what I love about television? The longer you keep a show on for, the more damaging to a brand it becomes. I'm going to make Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends global superstars, and I'm going to shatter the images that all the boys and girls and their parents have by showing them to be the greedy, cowardly, vain, prideful, conceited, lazy fools they really are. You see, where the Fat Director went wrong was that he wanted to rely solely upon magic for his ends. But me? I'm going to become an asset that the Island literally cannot do without. And I'm going to let the miles upon miles of thick wire rope that the Really Sodding Useless Engines have been given hang them until they dead. And THAT, John, is how you make money off of this."_

 _Zero stood up. The boat began to rock, but he didn't care._

 _"And we'll need it. Because they will gladly help us bring about a new world order. Not one that I'd necessarily agree with if I had a choice, but it's one that is coming whether I want it to or not. And by the time it's finished, the Malignance is going to be the one in charge, all the power of the universe, of every universe. And I'll be there, making sure that humanity survives in whatever form it has. Captain Zero. The most powerful man in the entire world."_

 _Sailor John was quiet for a moment. Then he said:_

 _"Be weird, to say the least. But I'm actually curious in seeing how it be playing out, me old lubber." He held out his hand. "Count me in!"_

….

DECEMBER.

At the moment that the diesels were advancing upon Duck, the Malignance made his way up the mountain. Though there was still a great deal of damage from the Battle of Sodor, there was no real issue with making his way from the ground into the hills. The lack of snow made it even better, and soon he was making his way across the castle causeway.

At that moment, lightning shot down from the sky and slammed into the rails, sending shock after shock into the steel. He faltered, but then grinned.

"Come now. This is child's play. If you were really so determined to put a permanent end to me, you'd make a move already." He paused. "No? Too busy trying that whole 'detachment' thing? Hmm, interesting."

His eyes narrowed. "It's a good thing that there's a celebration going on here, the light is helping significantly. Hmm…now then, what to do-"

And suddenly he rushed across the water, almost taking off from the rails and landing back down with a short, sharp thud.

"-with someone like you?"

Rusty hesitated. They had not really thought this through. But as the message had slipped through into their mind, they had felt compelled to come out and investigate it. Peter Sam was not equipped for the situation, Duncan and them had only just re-established peace and Rheneas was too unpredictable at present to be any help. And Skarloey wasn't in the area, so it fell to them.

Now though, they had to pluck up courage once more.

"What are you, and what the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh. Boldness. Intriguing. I don't know whether to be impressed or disgusted. Perhaps both."

"You're that thing, aren't you? The thing that tried to kill everything three years ago? Well you can bugger off our Island?"

"Our Island?" The Malignance laughed. "Our Island? No no no no no NO. You mean-"

Rusty was suddenly thrown back so violently that their face suddenly shrank in shock.

"-MY Island."

Rusty hit the points with a painful sounding crack. Gasping, they staggered up. Casually, the Malignance advanced forwards, and in the clear light of the moon, Rusty's eyes widened.

"Ivo Hugh?"

"Ah. You remember him now, do you?" The Malignance rammed Rusty's buffers and sent him hurtling back along the track. "Funny. You've forgotten about him until I brought him up!"

He stopped, and sniffed. "They're here." He hissed to himself. "And you don't want me to find it, do you, Lady?" He paused. "I'm going to kill you, little abomination. Then your corrupted friends. It's a mercy, really. Though I grant you, you'll not see it that way."

Rusty had a witty thing on the tip of their tongue, but could not speak it. For suddenly they were levitating in the air, and there was a rather ominous creaking sound.

"I shall, however, make it quick if you but answer one question. Where are they? I know you know what I'm talking about, you worked there for a whole year, you can't be that stupid, surely. Tell me where they are, or I swear I will-"

Seconds later, there was a flash of white light that hit everywhere, even the Works, and with a grimace, the Malignance backed off, Rusty hitting the ground and rushing off as fast as they could go.

"So you finally show up." The Malignance grinned. "Good. It's time for an actual challenge."

….

"GO THROUGH, GO THROUGH!" Skarloey screamed as the portal opened up and a familiar face peered through.

"But we've got no idea if we can trust it!" Rheneas argued.

"It saved your lives last time, boyo!" hissed Skarloey, shoving Rheneas through. "It'll save you this time! Now get in!"

The lightning was not normal lightning, all four had been able to tell that much, and with the coming of the portal similar to the one that had brought two engines through to safe areas in the Battle of Sodor, they knew it was time to move.

"Think we'll come back?" Peter Sam looked scared.

"Who knows, need to get out!"

Peter Sam nodded. "Sorry Mr Rabbit, but I will return!" Mr Rabbit offered no protest as his friend left.

"Go thought next." Duncan growled. "I'll get yon smelly diesel!"

"Are you-"

"Yes, now hurry!"

Skarloey hesitated, then hurried through. Duncan grit his teeth, and raced down the line towards where the noise was coming from. Said noise was the rather horribly realistic sound of Rusty's throat getting crushed by the thing currently in Ivo Hugh's body.

"Come out Lady!" The Malignance nearly shrieked. "I'm going to kill this little abomination!"

"OI!"

Duncan's beer bottle sailed through the air and smashed right on the Malignance's head.

"No." Rusty groaned.

"Hmm…fair point, fair point. It's only a DIESEL after all. That one, on the other hand?" The Malignance's voice dropped even lower. "Now that's someone you'll-"

There was a loud explosion, like thunder except twenty times louder, and the sky turned completely grey for a split second.

And then Lady descended, her face twisted into a large and very unpleasant looking snarl, eyes burning like the most heated fire.

Rusty was slammed into the ground, forgotten as the Malignance's mouth quirked up into a manic grin. "Well now!" He laughed. "This is interesting."

"Go. Now." Lady said.

"No, I don't think I will, sadly-"

"Not you."

The Malignance glanced to the side. Rusty and Duncan had already vanished, the yellow engine making sure to drag the critically injured diesel towards the portal which slammed shut instantly. "Hmm…disappointing." He grinned. "But that means that what I want to find is somewhere close by, doesn't it?"

"This ends now."

The Malignance shook his head, almost genuinely sadly. "No. No it doesn't. This is only the end of Act One. We've got a long way to go before it ends." He let out a sigh. "Ah well."

There was a split second's worth where nothing in the world moved.

And then everything moved.

It's hard to put into words what happened. However, it shall be attempted.

The engines flew at each other, gravity and momentum and physics all vanished in the night. They slammed into each other, purple and white energy crackling off of Lady while the Malignance's own dirty grey and black shadows hissed and crackled, wrapping around Lady's own and trying to smother then like a blanket upon the flame.

Cursing each other in languages far too old for humans to even attempt to translate, they raced backwards, forwards, everywhere, smashing each other all over the Island as fast as they could do. Lady slammed the Malignance into the ground, but the Malignance was quicker, stronger, grabbing up shattered pieces of buildings and stations and using them like projectiles, each one slamming into Lady's form with precision.

And then they went at each other once more, but this time not physically. Ivo Hugh's body shattered completely as the Malignance's pure energy form raced upwards, and Lady's own body seemed to vanish as she streaked forward. Had Carlin been there, he would have recognised it from the moment he had seen the Island of Sodor's creation, the same deep energy arcing across the sky.

They hit each other at full force, a shock-wave lashing out across the sky, shaking everything, or it would have done, had not they moved far beyond the mortal plain at that moment.

The Malignance hissed, and wrapping itself around what had once been Lady, began to very deliberately increase it's power. The light was slowly being absorbed into the dark.

And then it realised something.

Lady wasn't deliberately holding back, that much was clear. She was definitely giving it all she had, but at the same time, there was something off about what she had just done.

He slowly put it together.

1: Lady has access to the Magic Railroad  
2: He had been imprisoned in the Magic Railroad until very recently.  
3: That prison had been a place of pure darkness, with none of the light that he needed to feed off to survive  
4: The place they were in right now was very dark indeed.  
5: There was but one portal left remaining  
6: And as he was busy killing her, it was closing REMARKBLY fast.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh! Very clever, very clever." The Malignance tossed her aside as if like a ragdoll. "Very clever indeed. But I am not getting locked in here AGAIN!" And he raced forward.

Lady groaned, she had just enough energy to get herself back to Earth, and nought else. She watched as the Malignance escaped through the portal and let out a very low sigh, as she melted away.

Time to talk to those little engines. There was a lot to be done.

…..

The Malignance groaned as he was drawn, like a moth, to the large searchlight set up by Zero in case of such a situation. "Much appreciated." He grimaced. "I imagine that things have not gone well. She has a habit of being a particular thorn in my side."

"The diesels are gone. So are all my men. And that bloody tractor's taken out the double decker, which on one level means we don't have to bother with doing that ourselves, but on the other hand, it does not bode well if we've got a proper threat to worry about."

The Malignance glanced to Zero. "It matters not. Your men will find an area where there is a large boulder resting atop a hill, trapped in place. Destroy it, and then proceed to the old quarry set up back in 1998. Start digging there. There are things in that mountain that can help things move significantly faster."

"I see….and the engines gone?"

"Let the Iron Circle track them down and punish them. They won't get far, and even if they do…" The Malignance laughed, freely. "Oh that was fun. I haven't had a proper fight with her for so long now. And she's weak. Not as much as she was a few years ago, but she's faltering." He smirked. "Oh yes, things really are moving on, aren't they?"

…..

The eight engines looked at the mess in bafflement. Harvey, the Breakdown Crane and Butch were all there, trying to find out what happened and give assistance to the police as best as they could, but to no avail.

"He's gone, isn't he?" said Percy, quietly. Sadly.

"Yes." Thomas said, surprisingly sober at the moment.

"He could have said goodbye." Percy sounded like he was about to cry. "Will he ever come back?"

The engines looked around the shattered sidings in silence for a long time.

No one had anything to offer.

* * *

So everything mentioned in Zero's speech is something that's happened over the course of Volume 2. So a lot of that was his way of getting in good with the Island's population.


	65. Episode 26: Three Cheers for Thomas

Well. Here we are.

This is the end of an era I guess.

So, let's get the boring stuff out of the way first. I'm going on holiday to Cornwall at the end of the week, thus I'm going to be out of commission on this fanfiction for a good two of those weeks. Not to say I won't be working on the episodes, just that I'm not going to be uploading them until I get back. Hope this tides you over and serves as our little break for what it's worth.

Also, I'm going to be denoting when a specific piece of music I think suits the scene should be played. Just figured I'd put that in there for a one off.

Now, let's talk about the Classic Series. Make no mistake, though I've been critical of Season 6 and 7, I've loved seeing these again. It's not just the narration and the models and the music and the funny jokes and the movie-like camera angles and the constant upgrading as the show went along for better or for worse. It's all of those things and just a general sense of love for the show. Though my heart will always belong to the first two seasons and Ringo Starr's lovely narration, I've regained a lot of affection for the later seasons, found things out that gave me new perspective, and I hope that even through the bullshit I throw at the series, the love I have shines through.

And though it might seem odd to do so, I would like to thank you for sticking with me these past years. Whether you've been picking up on spelling errors that I've made, making sure that plot holes don't go unnoticed or even giving me legit criticism of what it is I'm doing wrong, it's helped a lot. And I'm glad that you've joined me on this revisit of a show that we all really kinda love in our way. I hope my take on the darker years will be just as welcomed!

Now, reviews!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Eh, that's fair, I like Rusty and Duncan's dynamic, so a lot of the time I'm having fun with that more than anything.

 **Game-Watch:** Drivers and firemen get away with a lot of shit in this series. XD.

 **MattPrice01:** Thanks, this episode ain't really a dramatic one, more ending on a cliffhanger that'll get bigger and bigger over the course of the remaining episodes and specials. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** It's a nice little ending, I think.

 **Hughie96:** Thank you for all of that, I don't have anything specifically to remark upon, but ta very much!

 **UGX7:** Thank you, I wanted to have a few little humanising moments (Ironic, I know) with the engines, especially as the end is coming.

 **jsw:** Ah, but you are forgetting that in this universe, the Railway Series books didn't happen in their proper timeframe (I.E. mid-forties to early seventies). The events of Season 1 and 2 for instance, which were the Railway Series stories adapated, happened in 84-86 in my timeline. And to add to that, while it's true that Thomas and Friends was a massive merch shifter in the Classic Series, I'd argue that it became the juggernaut that it is today over the course of the New Series, to the point where it reached 80's level of introducing characters to sell toys and so on. It was well known before 2004, but now it's going to be literally everywhere.

 **Garchomp65:** In short, yes and...*shrugs*

 **Guest:** Yeah, it's weird.

 **Acehoneycomb:** I won't lie and say I'm not daunted, but I'm hoping that my sarcasm will carry me through, and the plot will be there to stop me from going round the bloody twist. My own, not the episodes.

 **StreakofScarlet:** Five minimum, ten maximum.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : Yes, I actually realised that it would be a nice way to cap the Narrow Gauge story for a series or so! I'm glad you liked it!

This is the last time I'll ever write these words with regards to MY theme, the theme that I remember telling me that I was about to have fun back in my childhood days. So for now, as I said so long ago, Mr Campbell, Mr O'Donnell; if you would be so kind!

1\. 2. 3.

CUE THE THEME

* * *

So we'll be seeing more of each other, Steve?

 **Yeah, now that David's leaving, the new company wants me to stay on and run things. Make sure that the old guard has some hand in production.**

Huh. Wow, it feels so long ago that I was starting off.

 **And you? Are you leaving, Mr Angelis?**

Uh, apparently my contract got renegotiated? And also I've got to take something before we record each episode. Apparently they're quite powerful stuff. Knocks me right out.

 **And that…doesn't worry you at all?**

Hmm?

 **Oh, nothing, nothing. All right, when you are ready. Let's finish this off.**

…..

It is perhaps fitting that the last episode of the old guard came to be filmed upon the start of a new year. The twentieth year of this strange show. How much had changed. And how little, too.

The engines were feeling that strange sensation too, on an exciting day on the Island of Sodor. Perhaps something had caught fire, or maybe there was a fete, or perhaps there was a fete upon fire.

"GOOD MORNING!" bellowed Harold. No one was around to listen to him on the coastal run. They'd all left.

Annie and Clarabel were full of happy children. Which meant a few things.

1: A severe amount of spray painting on the walls  
2: At least three rolls of loo roll were to be thrown around and draped across the seats (They didn't even have toilets, how they had got there, no one was sure)  
3: Thomas was going to be the only one cheerful.

They approached the area set aside for the annual sports day. Yes, in January. What, are you critiquing the Sudrian system? Ha! I thought not! How could you when the sports include football, the hurdles, some…limbo looking thing and….and nothing else!

"Cutbacks." The site manager shrugged. "Love em or leave em."

"I'll leave em!"

"Can't. Just have to say that for legal reasons."

"I hope I'm Number One and win a medal!" said Robbie, the local favourite. Not because he was special or anything, just because his parents were running the sports day, and also had the use of various threatening items to be used.

Somewhere, Robbie Rotten felt as though his meme was being stolen.

"It must be nice to win gold." Thomas growled. "Those assholes running the camera crew have won gold, but WHAT HAVE I GOT?! Severe buffer pains, that's what! I'M ENGINE NUMBER ONE, BUT IT'S NOT LIKE I CARE AT ALL! Don't look at me, my good side isn't feeling it today!"

"Hello Thomas!" said Arthur, cheerfully. "Look at this! I've just received a Lifetime Award from BAFTA! Isn't that grand!?"

"You are DEAD to me, Arthur!" Thomas screamed.

…..

Thomas worked hard all day…relatively speaking. But he kept thinking about medals, and how he really should have medals coming out the bunker with all the stuff he had done. There had been that time he had one the Island of Sodor Wacky Races, after getting his driver to tie all the other engines to the tracks. And that time where he had eaten the most chocolate coins in one sitting, before Percy smashed that record and stole the trophy off him.

"IT ISN'T FAIR!" He bellowed to all who would listen. He was thinking a golden medal with a red ribbon, wrapped around his funnel.

"How smart I would look!" He bragged. Henry looked at Thomas and laughed long and hard about the idea of the tank engine being considered clever by any stretch of the imagination.

He arrived at the yard (Thomas, not Henry. He had been carrying the Flying Kipper at the time and, well take a wild guess how well that had gone), just in time to see Bertie and Percy there.

"Hello Thomas!"

"Sup, Percy. You look remarkably cheerful, given what-" Thomas stopped himself mid-sentence. Even he was not that thick. "Given the weather!"

"I'm going to take the Fat Controller to sports day!"

"Didn't know he was taking part!" Thomas was then greeted by the very funny image of a 'Haul the Topham' wheelbarrow race style event. It amused him greatly. "Probably get to see the egg and spoon race!"

"I didn't know eggs and spoons had races!"

Thomas, for the moment, considered just leaving the Island at this moment and becoming a monk, with a vow of silence to follow. Because honestly, how was he expected to respond to a statement such as that?

"The CHILDREN race with the eggs and spoons, VAROOM VAROOM!" said Bertie, who was nothing if not consistent.

"And the winner gets a medal. I DESERVE A MEDAL, DON'T I, PERCY?!"

Percy looked at Thomas, and offered the engine equivalent of a shrug, which was…well, make it up. "Won't you need to win a race first? I mean, you couldn't even win a Mayoral Race!"

"IT WAS CLOSE!" hollered Thomas, as Percy left the yard. The tank engine suddenly felt very bored.

"I'll race you, Thomas! First one to the station, wins!"

"Which station?"

"ANY OF THEM!?"

Thomas thought logically about this. And then he decided to stick logic where the sun didn't shine. "You're on! No passengers with me! READY STEADY GO!"

"Not fair!"

And the two of them once again took off down the track and road respectively.

"MOVE IT, LAZYBONES!" Bertie howled as Trevor moved at glacial speed. "I have bragging rights to win!"

"Nope." Trevor said, and if anything went even slower.

"YA BOO SNUBS!" shouted Thomas as he passed. "Hurry up Bertie!"

"I HATE YOU SO MUCH!" But Bertie grinned, for he could see that the fork in the road led to the bridge. And the bridge meant a station, and a station meant one very angry Thomas.

"Come on, come on, just get on!" hissed Thomas as the passengers all began to slowly enter the coaches with the speed of very bored ants.

"Better hurry up Thomas!" Bertie cackled.

Oh, how amusing, thought Thomas in a hiss of rage that manifested as steam. He waited for about five seconds as he tried to calm down, then swore and raced off down the line. But secretly he was rather enjoying himself.

"OH LOOK AT THAT!" He declared, as he saw the level crossing up ahead. "SHADES OF 84! Deja frigging vu! TA TA, BERTIE! Last one there puffs hot air!"

"Well I feel sorry for you if that's the case, BECAUSE I AM NOT COMING IN LAST TO YOU AGAIN!" Bertie shouted. Secretly, he too was having the time of his life.

"VICTORY FOR THOMAS!" declared the eponymous tank engine, as he drew near the last station. But as he did, he saw a signalman rushing out ahead with a red flag. "That's not for us!" He protested.

"Thomas."

"No! Really! It's…It's for the other engine behind us!" Thomas sighed as his brakes were applied. "So, what's the crack, brother?"

"I…I don't what that means."

"Oh! SIR!" Thomas offered a big beaming smile. "COURSE!"

"The sports day medals have been left at my office! We must fetch them at once! And by them, I mean you!"

Thomas groaned. "But…But…"

And then, something struck Thomas for the first time in ages. His conscience began to play up again. He had thought he had bludgeoned it to death a long time ago, but there it was, poking up.

"Sure." He said, quietly.

"We can't let the children down!"

"Of course not, sir. Of course not."

…..

Elsewhere, at the station (chosen to be Wellsworth), Bertie drew in, did a few victory laps and began to crow.

"AH HA! AT LAST, VICTORY FOR BERTIE! VROOM VROOM! Got to go fast! Up yours, Thomas! Didn't even need wings!" And he waited for Thomas to arrive so that he could rub it in, significantly.

He waited, and waited. So long, in fact, that Edward's last look over his branch line was stopped by him having to thaw Bertie out, who had frozen to the tarmac.

But Thomas didn't know any of this, as he raced past Butch having to tow Tiger Moth out of a massive crater. "Can't let them down! Can't let them down!" He said, slightly aware that really, he was a sap when it came to kids.

As he entered Knapford, he slammed on the brakes. "WAIT! What the hell happened to Percy?! Why couldn't he have done that stuff?!" Fuming, he waited until the stationmaster handed the medals to his driver, then puffing and huffing, he set off on a full circuit of the Island.

"I'VE GOT A PAIN IN EVERYTHING!" He declared.

"Now you know what it feels like to be us!" shouted Gordon, James, Toby and Emily as one.

Harold had arrived in the mean time, and was now mocking Tiger Moth significantly, as Thomas raced around the corner and nearly came off the rails completely.

"Well done." Said the Fat Controller, barely looking up.

"I should bloody well hope so." Thomas panted.

"What?"

"I mean, thank you sir!"

As the awards were presented, Thomas blacked out. It was a good thing too, Sir Topham crushing three children after demanding to take part in the sack race was not a pleasant sight to behold.

…..

"I'm too knackered for this." Thomas said, as the next morning, the last shots were being filmed. "So, just look the camera, say something inspiring and-"

"Hang on." Allcroft and Mitton looked behind them. "Er, Sir Topham?"

"Keep the camera rolling!" As Robert stepped off the bus, followed by other kids, Topham coughed. "It's pretty hard to come by, but there it is." Robert climbed up a ladder, and draped a red ribbon around the funnel. A golden medal clanked onto the smokestack, with Topham's face engraved upon it. "We thought you helped out a lot at sports day!"

"So we wanted to give you a medal of your own." The boy said.

"This is mine?" Thomas stared. "My very own medal."

He had a quip in mind as he looked at the golden Topham…and it died a death on his tongue, for this was the first time in a long while that he actually had something, other than cracks and dents and memories, of a good thing he had actually done. And for the first time in a long while, he felt….strangely touched. "Thank you."

"Three cheers for Thomas!" chanted the children. "The Number One engine!"

"I still won the race!" Bertie said, the moment grabbing glory hog.

But Thomas just peeped happily.

…..

(BGM: It's Over Now-Star Wars Rebels)

And that was the end of the seventh season of Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends. Though the 'The Tank Engine' would be dropped, it seems only fitting to call it what it is.

"Well Miss Allcroft, Mr Mitton. Thank you." Hatt smiled softly. "For a great many things."

"Who'd have thought that twenty years ago, when we tried to blackmail you with photographs of your soon to be second wife, we'd become such firm friends!"

"Wow our early days were weird!" Hatt paused. "But seriously, it has been an honour. Where to next?"

The two of them looked at each other, and shrugged. "Wherever there's interesting stories to be found." Britt remarked, at last.

Hatt nodded, and with one last firm handshake for both of them, he turned on his heel and walked back to his car.

David and Britt looked at each other for a long time.

"Well, I guess this is it."

"See you soon, I hope."

One hug later, and the two of them walked towards the dock, soon to be swallowed up amongst the crowd of people.

….

"Sorry lad."

Edward and Thomas watched as the tracks leading to their respective branchlines were shut down for the last time.

"It's fine."

Thomas didn't sound convinced. Edward didn't blame him.

…..

"House lights up, exit audience, the end." Steve Asquith remarked. The cameraman paused and watched as several of the old cameras were moved and dumped into boxes. "Wow. Gonna miss this."

As Gullane left for the final time, their quaint little cars were soon drowned out by the roar of lorries and vans carrying the latest and greatest cameras, all for the new series.

"When do we start?" Steve glanced at his clipboard. "TWO MONTHS?!" He shrieked.

…..

"What is this place?"

Lady hissed in pain as the cracks on her body were slowly refilled back in. "Part of the Magic Railroad. It's an easy place to rest up after a fight, I did it quite a lot before I was critically injured. This place should be hidden for quite a while."

"So what now?"

Lady looked at the five little engines and sighed.

"We need to be ready. I can't keep you here forever, but I have work that needs to be done, and you can assist me on quite a few projects. It'll save a lot of lives, I can assure you."

The five engines looked at each other, feeling very weary all of a sudden.

….

The station that Edward had once tested out with Stepney was shut down not too long after this. It had been agreed that the Island had no real need to hold any contracts with anyone bar the companies that the new shareholders wanted, and the Bluebell Line was quite simply, no longer profitable.

Truth be told, the engines weren't too bothered by this, they needed to keep Stepney safe, and there would be no such thing as safety on this Island anymore.

But even so, watching as the line was cut off felt very grim indeed.

…..

That night, Edward and Gordon, without any word to each other or anyone else, began to drink and drink. Stuffing their faces with alcohol and whatever was in front of them, determined not to look at each other despite being perfectly aware they were in the same room together.

James simply turned around and began to vigorously go through his self-care regiment. Somehow his heart just wasn't in it at the moment. Watching it brought Emily no joy, as she watched Henry mournfully take several drugs which made him, sadly, even worse in temperament.

Percy just looked out at the stars, remembering days spent at the Regatta and missing those days tremendously.

Thomas didn't know what to say. He had never known what to say, but it was only now that this fact was brought home to him.

….

"Well, here we are."

Toby looked around his new shed (Technically his old shed) and sighed. "Well, at least it's quiet."

He sat, and considered things.

"This was a mistake." He said, five seconds later.

…..

"So nae where?"

"You didn't have to come with me."

"Aye, mebbe not." Douglas glanced to Duck. "But yon enemies hurt Oliver. And despite him being a wee annoying idiot, I dinnae regret saving him from scrap."

"Besides, we were nae letting ye quack off the mortal coil without taking yon bastards down!" Donald grinned in a slightly edge manner. "So, I say again, nae where?"

Duck took a deep breath. "We take the long way round to the Bluebell Railway. We check in with Fergus, Stepney and his lot, make sure Oliver's all right. Besides, if we weave around long enough, we'll probably be able to lose any pursuers."

"….We should nae be leaving the others."

"No." Duck sighed, sadly. "But at this point I don't know what else we can do."

There was nothing more to be said about that. And so the three of them set off together into the wide world.

...

"How did you get this back off them?"

The Malignance shrugged. Or rather, Zero assumed he did, having abandoned Ivo Hugh's body, this meant that Zero had to make guesses a lot of the time as to what the strange flickering light was doing.

…..

 _TWO DAYS AGO_

 _City of Truro sat, thinking deeply, and watched the cameras as the image of Fergus and Boxhill, carrying a broken Oliver across the lines, filled several screens. "Well this is a fine mess we're in." He remarked at last._

 _"Do you want us to pursue?" Mallard was careful to keep the tone neutral, no excitement nor trepidation in it._

 _"Hmm….no, I think we'll let the others handle it. The rest of the world breathing down our necks problematic enough." The Juggernaut rolled into view and offered a quick hum that indicated that Truro was wanted. "Update me if there is any more information."_

 _Truro gasped in delight at the sight of the Malignance. "My lord!" He would have bowed, had he the ability. "It is an honour once more to see you in person!"_

 _"Calm yourself, Truro. I am impressed at how easily you managed to put my advice into practice." The Malignance let out a little sigh. "But there is one thing I would request."_

 _"Anything, sir!"_

 _"You have a property, I believe, that could of use to me. Please release it into the custody of my other associates."_

 _"It shall be done."_

…..

 _"Oh, you know, benefits of having a plan that speaks to them, or so I believe."_

Zero snorted. "Of course. Should have known, whenever I've seen Truro he's come across like one of us on the wrong side. Still….didn't think he'd be willing to give up such a big prize."

 _"What else are they going to do with this place?"_

"True." Zero looked to John companionably. "Come on, lad, let's look around-"

And as everyone else took the tracks or the roads, Zero and John walked back into the Other Railway complex with a spring in their step.

"-And drink to the future."

…

As the eight engines sat in a land that they no longer wholly recognized, under the rule of someone who clearly did not have their best interests at heart, and with friends disappearing left and right, they didn't say a word.

Instead, they merely closed their eyes, looking for something to help them get through the next few years.

And pictured a land where the sky was so blue. A storybook land of wonder. A magical land, just waiting for them.

The Island of Sodor.

And perhaps one day, all of their dreams might come true.

THE END FOR NOW.


	66. S8: Episode 1: Thomas and the Tuba

"Do you know why you are here?"

"How about you tell me?"

"Well- "

…

 _Dear Miss Allcroft._

Sir Topham Hatt stared down at the letter, swallowed miserably and then threw the piece of paper into the area of his drawer labelled 'scrap paper'. He really was going to have to get used to this, much as he disliked it. Selecting a new piece of paper, he cleared his throat, and began to write again

 _Dear Mr Asquith._

 _Congratulations, first of all, on your promotion. I know you to be a good man, and one who will no doubt do his best in this situation that we now all find ourselves in. Please let me express my appreciation for all that you have done thus far and all that you will do in the future._

 _Please also express that to the cameramen, the editors, the unit directors, the editors and to Mr Angelis that I have nothing against them personally, and that I am sure they all do fine jobs._

 _I ask you in this letter one thing. Please, if you could, could you have a word with one particular subset of your team?_

 _I refer, of course, to the-_

...

"WRITERS?!" roared Gordon at full lung capacity. "ON OUR SHOW!"

"Watch it, ye big lug, or ye'll lose yer voice!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing!" said Henry, sourly.

The first screenplays had arrived at Tidmouth to a grim reception. Yes, screenplays. Apparently, this show was going to be a 'documentary' in the way that the X-Factor is a 'reality show'. I.E. Not really.

"It could be worse." Edward said as best as he could.

…..

TWENTY-SIX EPISODES LATER.

"It could still be worse!" bleated a rather depressed Edward as the last "CUT!" was called, and the film crew decided to spend their few months of rest as best as they could trapped upon this Island.

"Shut the hell up, arsehole!" came the none too helpful reply from Gordon.

"Yeah that about sums it up." James added.

...

(BGM: Britain's Railway-Spitting Image)

Officially, the theme was debuted with the episodes on a national level. However, a rather pissed off workman shoved the following, slightly drunken recording of a very different and yet far more suitable song into the Sudrian shown version.

And thus the theme was cued.

"Here's the NWR for the eighth bloody time  
Sold by HIT's crappy childish rhymes  
With Hartshorne's music, all kiddified  
Preparing our Island to be bastardized.  
And here's a drugged up Angelis speaking the verse  
If you think that's awful, the future is worse.  
Down goes the standard, up go the price  
And only kids and retailers will be quite so nice.

There goes the individuality, the unprofitable lot  
Just leaving bland stories which will please you not  
There are the executives puffing away  
Desperately cutting apart Sodor's railways!  
With an awful attempt to mimic Awdry's style  
To sell to America with an attitude he'd find vile

The money makers in business making a pitch  
With the capitalist supporters all getting real rich  
The bankers, the stock analysts, the PR men too  
Will anyone lose out? Just you!

 ** _THOMAS AND FRIENDS_**

 ** _UNTIL WE CAN DO IT CHEAPER._**

…..

It was a…oh dear, another one? Another beautiful day? THIS IS BRITAIN WE SPEAK OF. A beautiful day for the British is rain pissing down upon everyone!

What? Oh, OKAY, sure, I've been doing this for ten years, but what do I care?

Fine, it was an adequate day on the Island of Sodor, and it also happened to be Lady Hatt's birthday. With her marriage beginning to bend under the pressure of the merger and the fear that her husband was regressing back into infanthood to try and avoid being dragged off to lose some pounds, she was desperately needing a good, fun old party.

Unfortunately, she lived on the Island of Sodor, where one out of three of those things was possible. And I'll give you a hint, it wasn't the good or the fun part.

There were cakes (Or there were, til her husband ate them all) and balloons (Until her husband sat upon them, save for four which had been handed off to the children) and even a merry-go-round (For her husband, who had decided that he was going to have a fun time on the horses even if it killed him. She lived in hope of that).

But the most exciting of all was the Brass Band.

"So, are you over being such a little bitch about not taking them, Edward?" Gordon asked, callously.

"Yes." Edward said through gritted teeth.

"Thomas, you are to take the brass band! We've got to justify you being in the title somehow, despite being maybe the second least interesting engine of the eight of you."

"Second least?" said a wounded Thomas.

"Well, Toby's not here, so I can say that he's not exactly going to set the world alight, is he?"

"Oh, thanks, I guess." Thomas looked stroppy, to say the least. James and Gordon were upset. Thomas leaving meant that he got to skip the umpteen footage filming scenes, in which they were forced to drag various loads of massive quantities along the Island for music videos and scenes that might be deleted.

It was hell upon Earth.

….

Elsewhere, as a crappier, much less successful brass band began to play a new theme for the show that surely wouldn't blend in with the other fifty pieces of similar nature, Thomas puffed along in a good mood. He arrived at Knapford with good time.

"Another bloody blue train!?"

"I wanted it to be the funny one!"

"Cheek!" hissed Thomas, as he started off. A moment later, James backed down and listened to a rather odd noise from the back coach.

"Typical bloody band! They've left the tart with nowt!" He hissed in empathy. "Even if she is slightly fatter than normal. And greyer. And a man. Who am I to judge?!"

"OI!" shouted the Tuba Player. "Don't leave me behind! I'M THE ONLY ONE OF YOU PEOPLE REMEMBER!"

Thomas didn't hear, which would become a running trend throughout the series. He had quickly gotten so used to hearing rants about more interesting characters getting the shaft that he didn't really pay it much heed.

"Men, am I right?" remarked Emily in a dry manner. No one noticed.

…..

Thomas stopped at Maithwaite to let the band out, breath a bit and maybe stop the complaining of his coaches. Suddenly, the band leader noticed something.

"We've lost nearly 250 pounds! Where is the tuba player?"

"…. Que?" Thomas asked, in the hope that maybe if he pretended to be a visitor, he'd not have to answer any awkward questions.

"We cannot play without him!"

"…. Are you su- "

"Yes!"

"Ah." Thomas hissed under his breath. "A pox upon all tuba players! I may have…left him behind."

…..

Apparently, no one on the Island of Sodor had a working phone, so communication between the stations was nigh on impossible. So as Thomas raised back to Knapford, the Tuba Player had managed to sleepwalk his way down to Bulgy's bridge, which had managed to move places in space and time.

Miracles never cease.

Why the tuba player simply did not wait at Knapford for, to pick one example, the stationmaster to ring to Maithwaite, no one will ever know. He was not particularly bright, was this tuba player. So unbright was he, that he had forgotten his own name, and thus was stuck with the name Tuba Player for the rest of his natural life. Also, he used the word unbright to describe himself.

Serves the bastard right.

Bertie pulled up, looking grimly at him with a face that screamed 'Ah ha, and how many prices can I gouge out of you?'.

"Can you take me to the party?"

"I'll go as far as I can. You're on your own, mate!"

…..

"THE TUBA PLAYER IS LOST! LOST I SAY! LOST IN A CRUEL AND UNFORGIVING WORLD! OH, WHAT A WORLD. WHAT A WORLD."

"The BAFTA's sodded off a long time ago, Thomas." The guard said, wearily.

"Oh well, how big an Island could it be?"

…..

TWENTY MINUTES LATER.

"Oh, chuffing heck, this is massive! Must find him, must find him, oh god I think something went!"

Where could he be?

Why the hell am I asking you?

Bertie had dropped the Tuba Player right above Thomas's head. He didn't say anything because the idiot could go hang. "Bye, loser!" said he, and off he rocketed, right into a ditch.

"Thank you!" laughed the Tuba Player. He took a deep breath. "Right then. Err, cameraman, do you have a mobile on you?"

"Yes."

"Can I use it please?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Not good telly that, is it?"

He sighed and waited. But not for long. For coming down the road was- OH SCREW IT, HER? AGAIN?

"Topham!? This is no time for fancy dress!" snapped Elizabeth the Vintage Lorry as she pulled up. "I can take you as far as the flour mill. Not that you need more pastries in you."

"Thank you." The Tuba Player growled out, and as he climbed aboard, he began to make a terrible din with his tuba.

…..

"Isn't it about time we finished filming for the day?"

"Five-minute episodes are so old hat, Thomas!"

"YOU MEAN WE'RE STILL NOT DONE?!" shrieked the tank engine. Where was this blasted tuba player? By this point he had learnt more about the Island's ecosystem in one afternoon than he had the proceeding twenty plus years of living on the Island. He flew right across the level crossing, cursing the phantom music that seemed to follow him around.

Thomas did not have the ability to put two and two together, it appears.

Seconds later, Elizabeth rolled across the crossing, blissfully unaware that she had missed anything. Well, blissfully was an exaggeration, as the Tuba Player wasn't good.

"WHERE OH WHERE HAS THE TUBA PLAYER GONE?!"

"I'm HERE!" shouted the Tuba Player. He was promptly dropped off at the mill, right besides a slightly bewildered looking Trevor. The camera crew had forced him into position as it was.

"It's almost as if I can HEAR HIS VOICE TAUNTING ME!" wailed Thomas.

"There you are young man!"

"Young man!?" protested Jem Cole. "He's sixty-three!"

"Might as well be five compared to her" The Tuba Player muttered.

"Trevor will take you from here!"

"OH, WILL HE?!" snapped Trevor.

…..

He did.

He moved slowly down the lane at a speed that was quite frankly insulting. Glacial was lightning fast compared to this.

"Maybe the Tuba Player is hiding AMONG THE TRUCKS, this is a genius idea, WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF IT?!" Thomas hissed in outrage, as he was forced to show off the new and very expensive cameras in search of this lone Tuba Player. "I'm sorry, I am not looking through each and every truck, this is humiliating!"

"THIS ISN'T MUCH BETTER!" He bellowed later, as he was forced to peer and shout "Are you in there?" through every single one of the express coach's windows. It was beginning to verge on the hysterical as his voice clearly showed.

He even went onto the main line-

"OI!"

-and swiftly off it again, as Henry raced through. Where was the Tuba Player?

In retrospect, the inability to turn his head to the right was beginning to get a little annoying. Why the cameraman had had to set up such a position there was quite beyond him.

And still the Tuba Player was mocking him with his playing.

He was so distressed that he ignored Butch's warning cry and skidded into the yard. And towards Percy, pushing a few trucks of bunting. He realized it too late.

"Oh, for the love of- "

The truck cracked open, launching bunting into the air and sending it crashing down onto Thomas. The trucks were off the rails, as was he. Percy was upset. "Just look what you have done to my bunting! Now I will have to cook- I mean, fetch some more!"

"To hell with your bunting!" Thomas said, spitting it out. "I'll never find the Tuba Player now! The blasted fool!"

"Hmmm." Harvey had arrived in a slightly camp manner to lay judgement upon the scene. "How did ye get into this mess?"

"I HAVE MISPLACED A TUBA PLAYER. And I shall never live it down, EVER!" Thomas was being overdramatic as per usual. There were many worse things he had done that he would never live down.

"Hmm…look and listen. He's a tuba player, so maybe he is- HOW DID THIS NOT OCCUR TO YE, maybe he's PLAYING his TUBA."

"YOU FOOL HARVEY! THAT WILL NEVER-Wait! He's a tuba player! So, it follows that logically, he may be playing his tuba! I just have to look and listen and follow the sound! I AM A GENIUS."

"You're a prick." Percy growled.

"That's the same thing!" Thomas said, blithely.

….

Two hours later, Thomas was taking his time going around the line. He had gone exactly one mile from the yard at that point, having left Harvey and Percy to suffer on without him.

And finally, he heard the sound of a tuba playing in the distance.

Trevor was beginning to desire the days where his ears weren't constantly bleeding. Or…whatever traction engines had for ears.

"FOUND YOU!"

Thomas practically screamed the Tuba Player into the carriages and took off as fast as he could towards the fete. He arrived at the party just in time…for a right bollocking from everyone involved.

The band played beautifully, Lady Hatt was impressed and she even said it was the best birthday party ever, and then went off and started crying out of sheer depression.

HAPPY ENDING EVERYONE!

….

THE PRESENT.

"Murdoch STOP!"

Murdoch looked at Edward with something approaching mild annoyance, which on that face looked significantly more threatening. "What?"

"Those trucks go in that siding over there! They're for Henry, right?"

"Right."

"Okay, so they can't go here, because Toby's got to take THAT lot later, and there's only one siding past this point."

"You're overreacting."

"Look, listen, we need to get this stuff up and running so that when they come back for the next season, we've got plenty of free time in between shooting. It's…look, it's a plan of ours. Which means, everything in it's place for the moment."

"Gotcha."

"Thank you!"

Edward looked away for a moment, and then looked back.

Toby's trucks were now moved back into the yard, and where they had previously been rested Henry's trucks, with Murdoch backing away. "I-WH-HUH!?"

"There. New place for everything. No prob."

"Ummu, YES, PROB!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing as Edward stormed over to Murdoch and politely, through very gritted teeth, made the best possible request to shift things to a more understandable position. For Toby coming through the yard would mean that the express would be delayed significantly.

Murdoch rolled his eyes and muttered. "Not my problem, mate."

"GOD DAMN IT GORODN WHY DON'T YOU LISTEN TO ME?!"

There was a long silence as everyone slowly ran that sentence (Probably said several dozens of times daily over the course of the last twenty plus years AT least) and then tried to apply it to the current situation.

It did not work.

Even Edward looked baffled at what had come out of his mouth, and he opened and closed it a few times.

"Edward- "

He whirled round "WHAT IS IT!?" He roared.

The Fat Controller looked at him for a moment.

….

"And that is why you have to attend therapy." Hatt informed. "Any questions?"

"Yes. I understand completely now sir, why I have to come here?" Edward took a breath. "Why are they here, though?"

The remainder of the Steam Team glared at him.

"Oh, they're going to therapy as well. Team bonding sessions!"

"I hate you so much." Henry informed Edward.

"Snap. I hate me so much as well."

"So, this is what we're doing for the next twenty-six weeks." Emily grumbled.

* * *

WELCOME ONE AND ALL TO THE NEW SERIES.

And welcome to what I term 'Therapy: Or How The Steam Team Nearly Killed Each Other For Real'. And by the by, that's not a spoiler really, because how good could something like this actually go.

Now, reviews!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Season 8 is weird because a lot of the time I can tell there are decent ideas for it, but the execution is not the greatest. It's not good, but it's the closest thing to good we're going to get for a while.

 **Game-Watch:** THAT HE IS. A lot of the fun of the last season or so was writing him as even more of a asshole than he was before, and then revealing a little of the why with the last chapter.

 **MattPrice01:** I'm glad someone noticed that! Thank you, it was a good time.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Thank you, MY FRIEND. And cry away! Emotions are good things, unless you're on the Island in which case RUN.

 **GreatWestern1522:** Yeeeeeeeeeeeep.

 **UGX7:** I am very glad you agree! It was a lot of fun writing it as well, so that was nice, glad it wasn't a slog to get through like some of Season 7.

 **jsw:** True, very true!

 **Garchomp65:** It's an idea, I can't say anything about that at the present, but it's an interesting idea, thank you!

 **Guest:** Yeah that is the main problem I have with them.

 **TrainManiac:** I HEAR GET MENTAL AND SO IT WAS DONE! Thanks for commenting mate, means a lot!

 **StreakofScarlet:** It's fine, and yes he does. He is...very dumb. XD.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : INDEED HE WAS. TRAITOR!

 **Chromestone:** Agreed, though a little loosening of the Awdry standards like Season 5 doesn't really hurt the franchise, just straight out abandoning it though? It's aggravating.


	67. Episode 2: Percy's New Whistle

You'll note that I've started to write out one final member of the cast with this episode. He'll appear in the relevant episodes and such, but for the moment this is his last appearance in the present day. Episode itself could be better, could be worse, at least it's tangentially related to railway safety and such.

Now, reviews!

 **AaronCottrell97:** Pretty much. :/

 **Game-Watch:** Pretty much, all things considered.

 **MattPrice01:** I'm sorry! XD. That's a good series, not a patch on their work on Top Gear for me, but it's a lot of fun to watch, so I apologize for interrupting your downtime! XD. I'm glad you enjoyed it all the same, I hope I make it interesting.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Indeed, dark times! And I gave it a quick read, I thought it was very good indeed!

 **Australian Guest:** The weather services on this Island have to have a therapist there every single day, just in case.

 **UGX7** : I am in agreement with all of that, pretty much.

 **jsw:** I just really like writing characters shouting for some reason. XD.

 **Garchomp65:** Yes, he went off with them, I'll add a little note in this chapter to explain it.

 **Guest:** Yep, there is going to be a lot of that, trying to keep my sanity in all of this.

 **StreakofScarlet:** Things were a bit stressful when I wrote this, I had to get some catharsis out of it somehow. XD.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : You never know. *shrugs*

 **UltraGX66:** Pretty much! LOL. There is a reason, but that waits until next season.

 **Aussie Mantis:** Aw mate, this means a lot! Thank you! I've tried to plan out as much of it as I can. I honestly forget whether or not I just misheard. Herr Gutze's name when I was writing it, I was quite obsessed with Shed 17 at the time and I wanted to write in something related to it as soon as I could, so *shrugs*. And YES, Ivor is based off Death from Discworld, probably one of the best characters in fiction...ever? In my opinion. It means a lot to be compared to the old SiF stories, they're a major inspiration! I hope I live up to your expectations.

* * *

THE PRESENT.

"What the hell do you mean, WE'RE FIRED?!" Carlin roared, fronting up to the production crew with all the threat and menace of a tortoise in hibernation.

Jasper Drampf was unmoved by this show of masculine superiority, and instead casually began examining the latest batch of scripts. Terrible, terrible, oh and what was that, yes, another terrible one. He glanced up. "They still here?"

"Unfortunately."

"Right, listen, Carlin. Buddy. It's time for you lot to leave, because you've had a good run, and really, we don't think you're suitable for the job anymore."

"Oh really? And what are you going to get to replace us? Evil Edna with her f**king magic antennae's!?"

"No. Just a system that doesn't mean that every time the engines leave the sheds, they're not smashing their way through a village or three." Jasper smiled. "Oh, and the fact that you ruined my father's election chances…that helps also."

"Well you'll have to f**king drag me from this very spot if you want me gone!"

Seconds later, the hired goons deposited Carlin none too gently in the nearby canal, and with a squawk, he was sent hurtling down the stream. The age of the driver and the fireman was over, apparently. Along with the age of the brake-van, now that Toad had departed with the other three escapees.

…..

It was winter. Or, in Island of Sodor terms, March. For once, this could not be blamed on the weather itself. No, apparently the second episode HAD to be set in winter. Hence why Murdoch was forced to chuff around the entire Island bringing snow and ice to all who asked for it (None) and those who didn't (All) in service of the plot.

You're welcome, fans!

The engines were busy going back and forth between stations (And complaining about the several wind machines that were consistently blinding them as they passed by) and having to warn people that they were coming.

For Gordon, this was not an issue. It is rumoured that people in Japan hear Gordon shouting so often that it's actually been worked into their daily schedule. But for the smaller engines who weren't as used to screaming at the top of their lungs like him, they needed something else.

So they have to blow their-

Stop sniggering at the back, you lot. How old are you?!

Right. Steam engines blow their whistles. In case you've missed the previous seven seasons worth of content. See, for context, here is James blowing one off right now- SHUT UP SHUT UP THAT WASN'T WHAT I MEANT AND YOU KNOW IT. And diesel engines, like Salty, blow horns.

Jokes about how Salty, a seafarer, would be used to be blowing things will be reported to the local authorities for bad taste.

One day, Percy took some trucks to the smelter's yard. We'll ignore for the moment that it looks an awful lot like the quarry and roll with it. Because Percy is a masochist, he whistled to Arry and Bert to say hello.

They laughed.

The rotters.

"Call that a whistle!?" asked Bert.

"Yes. Because that is what it is called."

"Listen to THIS!" And Bert blew his horn loudly. Ladies shrieked in surprise-That's the last joke I'll make on that subject…probably. Maybe not. Probably not.

"Diesel's can everything better than steamie's!" They sneered, as one…somehow.

"My whistle is as good as your horns!" Percy declared, trying to ignore the fact that the rest of his body hadn't stopped shaking yet. "Just you wait and see!"

"We won't." said Arry and Bert. Or tried to, through all the smoke that was being blasted not their faces.

….

Percy began to practice whistling louder-

"Shut up!" hissed Carlin.

-And louder-

"Shut up!" snarled Carlin.

-And Louder still.

"SHUT UP!" roared Carlin. Percy was satisfied now that he could surprise Arry and Bert as soon as he saw them next. And meanwhile, Henry and Toby were forced to pick up the slack in terms of actual work.

He snuck back around to the quarry (Oh now we're correcting that, are we?). He rolled around behind the two of them, took a very deep breath and blew as loudly as he could. Make your own jokes on your own time please.

Arry and Bert's hard-man image was shattered instantly, as they shook, screamed and raced forward.

"I told you my whistle was as good as your stupid honky horns!"

"WHAT?!" shouted the two of them, who had been deafened.

"EXACTLY!" crowed the little green bastard as he rolled out of the yard whooping and shouting his own praises.

….

Percy was now hungry for power. His loud whistle was going to be the talk of the town, even if it meant that he had to kill someone.

I'm only half joking about that last one too. You should have seen the look in his eyes as he spotted Thomas. He took a deep breath and-

"OH NO! THE WAR!" Thomas rammed his head straight into the trucks, recovered and looked around to see Percy grinning like a fool. "Ruddy twit!" He hissed. "That's not funny, and you know it isn't!"

Percy didn't. And even if he had, he would not have cared in the slightest. For now, Percy had one thing that he had never had before in his life.

An extremely powerful weapon.

He was greatly exaggerating the capabilities of his whistle, but to him, it was like being on Henry's drugs without all the screaming and the flashing noises and the nightmarish visions.

And then he saw another victim. Bertie the bus was moving down the road and wondering why they had gone to all the trouble of icing it over, when Percy took another deep breath and blew loudly.

"MOTHER-!" He slid sideways, and then smacked off the road. He looked up, enraged. "PERCY! CURSE YOU AND YOUR POORLY CGI-ANIMATED WHISTLE STEAM! …Wait what?"

But the green troll gave not one care give. For he was now Percy, the Chaos Lord of the Rails, and he would be recognised as such.

….

"So, if you hold him down, I'll get the rock to bash his head in."

"Sounds like a plan."

If you're thinking that this is a normal conversation for Captain Zero and the Malignance to be having, you'd be right. A shame then, that they weren't having this conversation, it was being had by Henry and Emily at Tidmouth sheds that night.

Percy had not shut up, so at last, Thomas had stormed in, and there had been a blazing row about how much of a monster Percy was. "You made Bertie skid across the road, and my trucks got damaged! And also, my ears are ringing!"

"We don't have ears."

"AND THAT'S YOUR FAULT AS WELL! Please STOP!" Percy was sorry, though even he didn't remember being the engine who caused the great ear-loss epidemic.

And eventually, Thomas got him to promise to stop surprising his friends.

Percy agreed.

One night later, Thomas had had to have another talk with him, with assistance from Edward, that no, hurting people who weren't his friends was not such a good idea either. Even if he did, personally, find the expression on Arthur's face hysterical as Percy let loose his whistle at full blast.

The day after THAT, Percy was bringing back the milk train from the depot. He was busy sulking. "I wish I could have one more loud whistle!" He moaned to himself.

"Percy, every time ya speak, I hear that f**king whistle, if that helps!" snarled Carlin. He sighed. "So I'm going to go take a leak."

"Are you sure that's wis-"

"I would consider the fact that we've been working with each other for nigh on eighteen years give or take should give you a little insight into the way my wind works!" Carlin unzipped his pants.

"I don't want to see this." Muttered the fireman.

With the two of them distracted, Percy looked around. No people or engines around to disturb him. Just him, two idiots and the lonely rails.

Well, in for a penny in for a pound.

But what Percy hadn't seen was that Trevor was taking food to the farm animals. Why, he wasn't sure. But since Terrance had disappeared completely off the map save for rare occasions where he crawled out, muttered something in tongues and then returned to whence he came, he was stuck doing the good deeds.

The animals had been unable to find any grass since the winter had started. Unfortunately, Norris the Farmer had given Trevor the wrong type of grass. If you don't know what I'm talking about, ask your local dealer.

"One of them is humping me." Jem Cole said in a strained voice. "Please stop."

Percy took a deep breath, and let out his biggest blow yet. Carlin shrieked and threw himself forward, off the train and into the snow, still de-trousered. But there was even worse up ahead (Though Carlin would argue otherwise).

Percy had blown so loudly that Trevor practically leapt backwards, knocking his trailer into a log which rolled down the hill which was covered in snow that ended up on the leg that knocked the cat that caught the rat that ate the rope that was in the garden next to the house that Jack built and thus he was able to declared MOUSETRAP!

Or something, I don't know. This grass really is something, you know.

By this point, the giant snowball was lurching towards the tracks, and towards Percy, who was still feeling like a god after that particular stunt. "BACK SNOWBALL!" He bellowed in a tone of voice that indicated he was of the belief that he was now the lord of the elements. "BACK I SAY!"

It must have been an atheistic snowball, for it paid no heed to the voice of God, whom promptly remembered that he was, in fact just plain old Percy and his driver was currently having to make sure that he hadn't just Christmas Story'd himself with his unmentionables. "OH SH-"

We can probably finish the last word off, for the snowball hit Percy and….did practically nothing. The log, however, took care of the remaining brain cells that he had had on offer. "Thiiiiisss snow looks like it's been painted white!" he declared in a slightly slurred tone of voice.

No one was hurt. Well, save for all who were. Carlin on the other hand, was so angry that for a moment words seemed to fail him.

"FOOL YOU F**KING, DOING WHAT YA THINKING WERE?!" He declared. It took them a good three minutes to even decipher what it was that Carlin was trying to say, at which point he slipped on the ice seven times, and continued to hold his groin in an agonised manner. "ALL THE CARLIN JUNIORS!" He wailed.

"I'd help, but-" The fireman shrugged. He had figured that he was in for a long wait, and thus had started up his tea.

"You bastard." Carlin hissed. "I didn't save the Island for this SHITE! I'm going to have to go for help!" He staggered off, slipped and landed nose first in the ice. "I hate this! I HATE THIS SO MUCH!" He ranted as he staggered off. He left Percy to freeze and to think, though he did far too much of one and far too little of the other.

Luckily for him, he managed to see Thomas not too far away. Carlin, that was. Unluckily, he was de-trousered, ranting and severely snow-covered, so it took him a while for him to convince Thomas's own driver and fireman that he wasn't just a rabid homeless person, and could they put down the shovels, stop hitting him and come and help?

Oh, and the Fat Controller was also there. Why he was in the cab and not the workman's carriage, who can say? He was pissed, and jumped from the footplate.

He went straight through the snow, so he had to shout his rebuke while being chin-deep in the frozen water. "Whistles are for safety! And for private use only! Not for playing games out in public! You're also being a real prick about it! You must only use your whistle when the time is right!"

"And when's that?

"Oh, I don't know. The end of the world, perhaps."

"Fine." And he promised not to use it unless it was a case of desperate times and/or measures.

….

One day later, Percy was tired and sick of having to deal with…well, everything. He had had to put up with several comments about the incident from the others. Gordon had named him 'Napoleon', Henry had offered up the nickname 'The Ugly Siren' and James had gone for the cleverest one of all, 'Fat Nose'.

He was, by this point, heartily angry at his own whistle, and at his driver, who was still sulking over the many, many injustices he himself had faced.

Percy exited a tunnel and gasped. A big snowdrift had fallen onto the tracks….big being subjective. I've seen bigger. But still, it was a very dangerously looking average sized snowdrift.

And then he heard a whistle. It was Thomas, on his way!

"Oh, well, he's doomed." Percy the Vengeful Engine said. "We did all that we could, but I'm not allowed to whistle ever again, EVER."

"Percy, if you don't do this, I'll take away your Toys R Us subscription."

"BUT I'M A TOYS R US KID! I must WARN him!" He took the biggest puff he had ever taken (AGAIN, I hear you cry? AGAIN, I answer, in agony) and blew as loudly as he could.

"Something had better be wrong, or I'm going to have to forgo the normal peaceful ways and-HOLY SHIT SNOW!" Thomas put on his brakes, and came to a stop (Say it with me now) just in time!

The amount of steam that arose really was too big for words, and thus no one was able to speak for a good three minutes.

"CINDERS AND ASHES!"

"Indeed! What a surprise!"

"NO. LITERAL CINDERS AND ASHES. IN MY THROAT. BURNING ME UP! AARRGH!"

"Thank you Percy?" asked the eponymous engine. But unfortunately, Thomas was too busy choking and having gallons of ice shoved into his throat to answer him properly so they had to dub it over in post.

….

That evening the Fat Controller came to the sheds, Thomas having had a massive smile literally slapped on by the camera crew. He was still screaming internally. "You're a really useful engine and you stopped a nasty accident. Well Done."

Percy was so proud his firebox tingled. He uses his whistle safely now, and all are glad to see him.

That was how the episode ended.

Reality, meanwhile, intruded rather abruptly.

The cameras were shut off, Hatt flipped them both off and he stormed off, leaving Percy to deal with Thomas, who was pissed off.

In short, all was off.

Thomas, luckily, took the brunt of the mocking nicknames this time (Including 'Ash Wednesday', 'Fire-Engine Sam' and, most humiliating at all 'Thomas the Weaker Than Arthur Engine') and his pride began to pulsate with rage.

But that is another story.

…..

THE PRESENT.

"So, what's the deal?"

The eight engines were waiting in the yard in a cold kind of fury. Edward hadn't said much, except for "Sorry" and "My mistake" and "Okay, you're pushing your luck a little" since he'd gotten them dragged there.

"Apparently-" said Henry, glaring at Edward again "-the therapist's had to get some work done before he came here."

"Look, it'll be fine." Emily sounded unsure though. "He'll be a wee old man who talks a lot about how we should all hug each other and learn to understand one another-"

"HA! What a FREAK!" Gordon shouted.

"-and then we'll all get to go home."

"Sounds great." Thomas grinned. "Besides, he'll probably be inoffensive-"

"Coo-ee!" said Arthur, bounding into the yard. Thomas's face went seven shades of purple all at once, and the rest of the engines desperately tried to look somewhere, anywhere else. "Hello lads, what a turn up for the books, eh?"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" thundered Thomas.

"Oh, I had to study to become a therapist for my BAFTA nominated series about life in the psychological world! It was quite interesting actually, got a lot of people interested in the art!" Arthur was, as per usual, blind to the fact that every word he spoke made Thomas seeth with pure hatred.

"And you're….our therapist?" James glared at Edward, who sheepishly found a particularly interested section of wall to look at.

"Yes, I was rather surprised as well! Now, let's start off with a simple idea! Let us go around the yard and introduce ourselves to each other."

"Arthur, we were at your Beginning-of-Season party at the start of the year. I think we know each other.

…..

ARTHUR'S BEGINNING OF THE SEASON PARTY, THE START OF THE YEAR.

"AANNNNNNNNNNNND IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII- WE'RE ALL SCREWED- WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUUUUU!"

"Second that eejit stops that caterwauling, I'm going off to do something less painful, like take the Flying Kipper out again." Henry hissed.

"Yeah, no, according to the contracts we have to stay here for a good two hours more before we can even think about moving onward."

"But Toby-"

"YOU'RE MADE OF METAL, HENRY! I'm made of wood! That bouncer could rip through me like Bauer through terrorists!"

"What a timely reference, Toby."

"Thank you, I've been watching a lot of it. It reminds me a lot of this entire bloody escapade. At some point there's going to be a random lion popping up and trying to attack us."

"Make a difference from…I don't know, what even is James doing anymore?"

"Failing."

"Ah, that's the word." Henry flashed Toby a grin. "Fancy doing a power ballad?"

"Whitney Houston, Bonnie Tyler, whatcha got for me, Square-Wheels-"

"RUINED!" wailed Gordon. "IT'S ALL RUINED!"

"It's okay, Gordon-"

"BOG OFF, EDWARD!"

"All right." Edward headed to the other two. "So, what a mess, eh? …What's this about contracts? Emily said we can't go because we signed contracts, which I…haven't?"

"Huh….Oh, OH, right, no I see what it is now. You were shunting when the guy came up to us."

"So I technically don't need to be here!?" Edward tried to hide his grin and couldn't quite help it.

"Nah, we signed for you."

"….Okay."

"I mean, we can't all have fifteen percent." Henry agreed. "Someone had to get the remaining ten."

"…Hmm. Okay I'm going to go scream into the void for a bit-"

"GET OFF THE STAGE!" Emily roared.

…..

"That was a good day!" Arthur declared, with no hint of irony. "But we have to uphold the appearance of professionalism! So, go ahead!"

"Gordon."

"Emily."

"Henry."

"James."

"Toby."

"Percy."

"Edward."

"Thomas The Tank Engine!"

"...That all I'm getting huh? Very well! It appears we need a name for this group! I shall dub it...Disillusion and Affray, as Led By Arthur!"

"I hate this day." Thomas growled.


	68. Episode 3: Thomas to the Rescue

Thomas to the Rescue is perhaps one of the best episodes of the season, in my opinion. Primarily due to the fact that it feels like proper old school stuff. Thomas doesn't really do anything terrible that proves Diesel's point, it's just the latter being an asshole. And in the end, he wins through and helps them out when modern tech fails.A few more drafts and this could have been really special. As it is, though, it's good. I think. Depends on your mood when you're watching it, I guess.

I think it should be noted that this chapter is going to be fairly short, though longer compared to the first two. That's because the next seven chapters, story-wise, will be focusing on one characters specifically, which hopefully should take up a longer amount of the chapter. This one is more a set up, and I had assumed it would be longer than it actually was. Sorry!

Now, reviews!

 **AaronCottrell97:** This is going to be one of the rare times that Percy gets to go off on one. And Thomas and Arthur are going to be having a lot of fun reactions with each other.

 **Game-Watch:** That's what makes him think, every night.

 **MattPrice01:** Misery is the name of the game!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Glad you enjoyed that! And yeah, you've still got a bit of time with Carlin and Percy for the rest of the season!

 **UGX7** : It definitely feels like something that Awdry would have made, if a few more drafts were written and added. I agree with you there.

 **jsw:** Pretty much! That gets addressed a little bit here!

 **Garchomp65:** I re-edited that back in. So I hope that's okay for you.

 **Reality Rejection Service** : ESPECIALLY if your name is Thomas.

 **Aussie Mantis:** I'm glad that you are enjoying. Funny thing is that when I actually write these, they seem way longer. It's not until that I actually see them in the editing process that I'm like "Huh. These are actually way shorter than I remember." It's weird. I've tried to add as much in as I can, so I hope this is adequate!

* * *

THE PRESENT.

"What do you mean you can't come on down to help? Typical male!"

"Mavis!" Toby protested over the walkie talkie. "That's hardly fair! I'm not her of my own free will, you know! I'm here because I've been told to, and because they've refused to take off these bloody wheel clamps! I'd much rather be down there with you, and-" He paused, and then retracted the last part about Bill and Ben in his mind "-with you! Least I'd be getting work done!"

"And that's another thing! I've heard it rumoured that they're thinking of reopening part of the old tramway back up for...some reason?"

"News to me!"

"But what I mean is, you're going to busy there leaving me to deal with the twins AND the quarry AND the rest of it, unless they get some cheap tart in yellow to give you a hand!"

"Not very feminist of you, Mavis."

"Piss off, fusspot."

"Love you too."

Mavis hesitated. "There is one other thing. Not about you, more...well, it's something to think about, at least. I'd not bring it up yet, because I imagine that tensions are running a little high."

"High? Nonsense. Only thing that's high right now is Henry, and even that seems a bit more pathetic than usual. Everything else is just low, low, low. Incluiding morale."

"Then perhaps I shouldn't-"

"This session is going to give me nothing to think about otherwise, so you might as well spill the beans now."

"...There's been a sort of culling in terms of jobs. All the drivers and firemen have been sacked."

Toby spat out his drink. "THEY'VE WHAT!?"

"Yeah. Most of them are getting some jobs elsewhere, working as porters and guards and other staff and the like, so it's not as if they're being shoved off to some funny farm. But it's more who hasn't been reassigned that's worrying me. Three specifically. Carlin, Charlie Sand and Sidney Hever."

"Why the last-Ah. Edward."

"Yeah."

"Hmm...Well, it's something to consider. I won't tell them right now, with the way things are going that could lead to a full scale riot. Shit, my time's running out!"

"You're not that old!"

"Ha! No, I mean Arthur's coming back, looks like my free-phone call is out. Chat to you later, have a good day!"

"No promises! ...Good luck, Toby."

"Ta, m'dear."

It took Toby three minutes to realise that he really should have asked about how they were going to be driving with their drivers out of commission. And by that point, he was in too deep to react.

...

THE PAST.

"Good morning Gordon!"

"Up yours! AHAHAHA! Am I not the wittiest?!"

So began a busy, bustling morning on the Island of Sodor for Gordon and Percy. With the fake snow having been cleared away, all steam engines and diesels were working happily to get the day's work done.

…Oh, wait, hang on, I misread that last line. Ahem.

All steam engines and diesels were NOT working, and were quite happy to see the day's work be left undone for the next ten to twenty weeks. James in particular was seething behind the massive grin plastered upon his face by the makeup artist, for he was pulling a series of vans were really quite rude to him.

Then again, being quite rude to James was a bit like touching a foxglove. It only took a little interaction to piss them off a significant amount.

The Fat Controller, meanwhile, came to see Thomas. We'll ignore for a moment that if this is the same day as the preceding shot, then Thomas has somehow managed to rush all the way back to the sheds from the docks, get into his berth and then be greeted by the Fat Controller. Because when have we ever pointed out a teeny-tiny plot hole like that, eh?

"The quarry has an important order to fill!"

"Three big macs, two Coca Cola's and a free toy?"

"Don't be a bloody smart-arse, Thomas. I need an engine that is both useful and reliable." He looked around. "Sadly, Toby's only contracted for one, maybe two episodes where he's the main focus, so you'll have to do."

"It is my name in the title after all!"

"Don't remind me!"

"Ah, don't worry about me! I shall not let thee down, tubbs!"

"Wow, you are just….letting go of all that respect you had for me, aren't you, Thomas?"

"Pretty much, sir."

….

But when he arrived at the quarry, Thomas was in for a surprise.

The engine standing there was not someone who should be back here, again. Yet, here he was. Black, oily, with a face that indicated that he was constantly thinking of the next maniacal trap to catch Batman in before the cliffhanger of the show, before it turned into a scowl at the merest sight of him.

"Oh, it's you." Diesel oiled.

"Wait, aren't you dead?"

"Don't know what you mean." Diesel growled. "All I remember is you steamies to ruin my life. The Fat Arse has worked out that letting me go was a mistake. I have a guaranteed contract now. I'm going to be revolutionary-"

"OH NO HE ISN'T."

Diesel slowly turned to glare at the workman. "Oh yes I am!" He hissed back.

"OH NO HE ISN'T!"

"OH YES I AM!"

"OH NO HE-"

"Yes I am Yes I am YES I AM!" Diesel paused, and then turned back, once more the model of calm and poise. "What are you doing here!?"

"I'm here to help my friend Maria!" He stared at his driver's shaking head. "Marik?" Again, a shaking head. "Maaaaaaaaaaaarlon?" He turned back. "Okay so I haven't interacted with her many times, don't even think we've even had a drink together! But still, she is my friend because all people are my friends! Except for you, jerkarse!"

"Steamies can't help! They're weaker and they're not like a diesel at all!"

"Well that's a logical argument! Oh wait, that's like the opposite of that, what's it called? Ah yes, bloody lunacy!" Mavis sidled up. "Oh, hey, uh….Thomas. It's Mavis, by the by. Apparently I'm not allowed to leave this area of the quarry now."

"I sympathize. I'm stuck on the entire Island."

Mavis did not point out that this was not quite the same thing, for fear that she may just kill Thomas on the spot. Thomas began to work at once.

….

"Ah, terrific. Another bloody hopper. I swear, if Percy comes along and screws it up, I'm going to-MMFLFHMPH!"

"You're going to Mmflfhmph?" Mavis frowned. "Is that in Wales?"

Diesel was up to his old tricks. He had shoved Thomas under the hopper. His pride, still wounded by the ashes and cinders incident, began to pulse. "CINDERS AND ASHES!" He roared, aware that he was now directly on camera, and wanting to look his best even as stones and rocks poured into his mouth. He let off steam.

There was a loud sniff. "WHAT'S THAT HORRIBLE SMELL?!" Diesel gasped, for he had realized he had made a mistake by inhaling steam. He went off to be violently ill somewhere, which suited him just fine. "IT'S JUST A STINKY OLD STEAM ENGINE!"

"How RUUUUUDE." Thomas the Camp Engine declared.

"No wonder- ACK! – the Fat Controller is trying to- PTEW! -scrap steamies!"

"Ha! What a stupid name! And I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!" Thomas began to cry then, for he wanted an award for this work, even if it killed his macho image. He didn't have a macho image, but no one had the heart to tell him.

"WHAT-" Thomas declared, as he was forced to spend the night at the quarry "-if Diesel is right?! What if he plans to scrap ALL OF US!? Us!? The stars of a major television show that has money and awards attached to it!? Oh, IT'S TOO PLAUSIBLE."

…..

"So….Diesel."

"That is my name, do not wear it out."

"Why are you called that?"

"It is a STATEMENT OF FACT."

"….Yes. It's also a ruddy stupid name. I'm not going to around with a driver and fireman who literally call themselves Driver and Fireman, or a doctor named Doctor. …Were they too cheap to give you a name?"

"Shut up, Mavis! You smelly….girl, you! Someone else is coming tomorrow, and I shall at last have someone sensible to talk to!"

…..

"AHOY MATEY!"

"Who the hell are you, clown?" sneered Diesel, though more out of bafflement than anything else. Mavis rolled her eyes and smirked.

"I be Salty!"

"I did not ask for your hygiene!" He stared. "Oh…Oh that's your literal name. I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Arrrr, be fine, lad! I bring fresh diesel from the mainland, so I do! It's the good grog! I've already taken five barrels for me own private collection! Now, while ye go back to work, I be going to swab the docks clean again, before that bloody silly cove Cranky screws the pooch!"

"What a strange creature." Diesel mused as Salty left.

Once the fuel was inputted, Diesel's engine began to rev faster and faster. "Hahaha, oh this is GOOD STUFF!" He cackled maniacally to himself as he spoke. "This new fuel makes my axles tingle!"

"How lewd!" Thomas paused. "Coal doesn't make my axles tingle. I wish I had fuel that could do that."

"Ha! Once again, a steamie realizes the folly of his ways too late!"

"OH HAHAHA THIS IS CRACKING! RIGHT THERE!" Mavis appeared to be having a whole other experience over in the corner. Thomas was feeling left out, and resolved to get hold of some drugs from Henry later on. Soon, Diesel was showing off.

"I'm the fastest engine in the world!" He slurred. "Look at me go!"

He went.

He stopped.

And then his engine began to cough, splutter and then it died. Black smoke began to raise from it, the kind of black smoke that indicated that something was very wrong indeed. His face turned green, or more so than usual. "I feel sick!"

Thomas would have laughed, but Mavis was also bleeding black. The smoke locked around Thomas's lips and nose like a vice, suffocating him. "GAH! Someone ever tell you it's impolite to blow smoke in someone's face!"

The quarry manager was upset. "It's the new fuel!" He declared, ever a Sherlock fan. "Water must have leaked into the tanks!"

"How do you know that, sir?" asked Thomas.

"I drank some, why do you-OH GOD I'VE MADE A MISTAKE!"

Elsewhere, all the other diesels were beginning to break down. Arry, Bert, Derek (Recently returning from his sabbatical and attempt to wean him off the drink, which went…reasonably well) and even Salty. "I WAS WRONG, JIM LAD! Bury me at sea, where the gulls lay!"

The Fat Controller phoned the quarry manager.

He was busy throwing up, so his deputy had to answer for him. And when he did, he came to see Thomas.

"You are to collect fresh diesel from the depot!"

"Oh, we're replacing that one already?"

"Oh WHAT A COMEDIAN!" shouted Diesel, through fits and splutters, and a significant amount of green mixing in with the black smoke.

"Ha! Right away, boss!" And Thomas steamed out of the quarry as fast as he could, feeling unbearably smug.

He arrived at the fuel depot in plenty of time. "STICK EM UP!" He screamed, to amuse himself. "Give us all the clean fuel you've got, or I'll…I'll…I'LL SIC GORDON UPON YOU!"

In some areas of the Island, this amounts to terrorism, so the depot manager got to work at once. "We'll soon have you loaded!"

"A drink! Why thank you!"

"This wasn't what I meant." Thomas complained as he was hooked up to the flatbed containing the barrels of fuel. He started off, and then stopped, and then wheezed his way forward, his body shaking and gasping with the weight of the trucks.

But still he kept on going.

He dropped off barrel after barrel. First to Salty ("ARR! LAD! Me grog!"), then to Arry and Bert ("Thank you, now piss off!"), and then, at last, back towards the quarry. He felt very tired, but happy.

He had no idea who Derek was, so the latter was left to suffer for ages. Bang went the sobriety.

…..

Diesel was as green as a leaf. Assuming that we are talking about a leaf in summer/spring time, and not one of the other kinds of leaves. He was very green, okay!? Mavis was looking no better, and feeling glum.

As they heard the whistle, their mood did not pick up, even as Thomas steamed in with one final puff. "I MADE IT! SUCK ON THAT, WANKER!" And then he passed out.

Mavis and Diesel's engines were drained of the bad fuel, and replaced with the new clean fuel.

Diesel muttered something that might have been "Marvellous" though he didn't look at Thomas.

"Thank you Thomas!" said Mavis, who was polite enough, at least. They got back to work as fast as they could, the quarry clattering with the sound of work.

And the non-specific important job was soon complete, just in time for Percy to collect a paycheck by bringing the Fat Controller to examine it.

"Well I'll be damned! Nice job, Thomas. And for once, you're not the one who screwed it up!"

"You sound surprised."

"I am! You have saved the day. And for once, you're not the one who screwed it up to begin with. You are a really useful engine and a credit to the railway!"

"Oh, ta sir!"

And even Diesel had to admit, though not to anyone's face, that Thomas is a very special engine. Even if he is a steamie.

Thomas ruined the moment by doing a victory lap and bragging, BTW. But I assume we all guessed that anyway.

….

"So it worked, then?"

"Surprisingly well, all things considered." Zero shrugged his shoulders. "A little suggestion here, a bigger suggestion there, and now Diesel's fully installed on the Island for the foreseeable future."

"I still don't get why we couldn't just keep D1. This one is-"

"Has been reset to his original mindset. Namely, steam engines bad, diesels good, and that he's the victim of some great conspiracy. Which he is, he's just got the wrong side. That means he's loyal in a way that the Fakes will never truly be. And besides, D1's use was running out." Zero looked to Jasper. "Now, I've got an idea as to what you can do next."

"Which is?"

"Find the Grotto. Let's see what we can get from our experiments on the buffers. Who knows what we'll find?"

...

THE PRESENT.

The group glared at each other, barely restraining their contempt for themselves, each other, Arthur, the Fat Controller and the whole sorry mess that they were all in. It was a contempt buffet, practically.

Arthur beamed at all of them. "So! Let us start with a simple exercise!"

"Ha! I'm fastest and best, AND I WILL BEAT YOU ALL!"

"Not that kind of exercise, Sausage."

"Why I oughta-"

"AHEM!" Arthur's smile didn't dim, in fact if anything it increased. Thomas hated it, more than he had ever hated something before. "This is good, communication with each other is good!"

Percy muttered "So can I call Thomas a piece of shit?" to Toby, who promptly choked on his drink laughing.

"Now, our first task is this." He backed up, revealing a projector that was pointing at the shed wall. "I want you to tell me why you think you are here, with me, in this fortified yard with wheel restraints wrapped around your lower half."

"Yeah, I was meaning to ask about that, what the hell?"

"Well, Emily, the Fat Controller said that some of you might take the fact that you are here, having to listen to me to be a punishment of sorts." Thomas and Gordon nodded eagerly. "So we just want to make sure that you stay here so you can learn that no, this is more an opportunity to be better and healthier engines. Now, let's start with Toby."

"Why me?"

"Because you're going to be the shortest one in terms of speech length."

"You know what, that sounds accurate." Toby cleared his throat. "I'm here-"

"Please introduce yourself to the group."

"But…didn't we already do that?"

"Are you a therapist?"

"…..No."

"Don't judge my methods! They work!"

"Of course they do. Right. I'm Toby-"

"HI TOBY." Intoned the other seven engines.

"-and I think I'm here because I'm…a stabilizing influence on the group, so hopefully if something gets out of hand and they try to kill you….I'll be there to talk them down?"

Arthur nodded, clearly missing the fact that there were several threats implicit in this statement. "Hmm…hmm, I see, I see. All right, thank you Toby. Everyone give him a round of applause…oh wait, no hands, hahaha!"

No one else laughed.

"Emily?"

"I'm Emily-"

"HI EMILY."

"-And I'm here because I'm new? And because pain and suffering, I guess, is what this Island is all about? Also, ye need some new meat to really appreciate the screwed-up-ness of the Island."

Thomas whistled. "I call bull, can you dock her points for her lack of good word-speech?!"

"This isn't a competition, Thomas!"

"THEN WHAT THE HELL ARE WE EVEN DOING HERE?!" Thomas wailed.

"….Percy?"

"Uh, I'm Percy Esquire-"

"….Hi….Percy Esquire?"

"-and I'm here because I'm honestly kinda messed up in the head from the repeated trauma that this head of mine gets shoved into various trucks, walls, walls of trucks and so on and so on."

"Honesty! I appreciate it! …Not sure about Percy Esquire though. Henry."

"…..Henry."

"HI HENRY."

"I'm here because the drugs I've been growing are not TECHNICALLY legal, which is bull, because I've been using myself as a guniea pig and nothing bad has-"

Henry suddenly did a full flip and screamed aloud in Swedish something about the coming of the dark god. He paused, and then continued as if nothing had happened. "-as I was saying, NOTHING IS WRONG WITH ME."

There was a long pause as Arthur's speech-to-text translator went into overdrive with the writing down of notes. He looked up and grinned. "Thomas?"

"I'm Thomas-"

"HI THOM-"

"Can we NOT!? The joke got old! I'm here because as your leader-" Roars of laughter exploded outwards "-I AM! I AM YOUR LEADER! RESPECT ME! As your leader you need someone to make sure that you…well, idiots make it through alive! Oh, and I'm guess I'm here because people need to make sure I can handle the price of fame, but-" he began to laugh slightly hysterically "-do I look like I'm handling this badly?"

No one answered.

"DO I?!"

Half-heartedly, Emily, Edward and Toby remarked "No, not really" while the others sat in grumpy silence.

"James."

One could, if possible, detect the sound of six engines who weren't James or the still salivating Thomas, licking their lips.

"I'm the Really Splendid Engine, Hero, Trendsetter, King and Friends to All Living Things, James, the Red Engine!"

There was deadpan silence.

"And I am here because I'm BEING FRAMED! IT'S ALL A CONSPIRACY!"

That was all he would say. Seven engines were very disappointed, yet still intrigued.

"Gordon."

"I'm Gordon. I'm here because SOMEONE-" He glared at Edward "-is determined to spoil our fun! And because SOMEONE-" he snarled at Edward "-very clearly wants to try and break us at this most important time. And also, SOMEONE-" He spat in Edward's general direction, at which point the wind blew it back right into his face "-is very clearly jealous that I'm harder, better, faster and stronger than he is! …Not in a sex way, for the first one. I mean I'm tough. I don't want to name names, EDWARD, but I think it's clear, EDWARD, that there's some sort of, EDWARD, mistake here that SOMEONE, EDWARD, is capitalising on."

"Don't hold back, Gordon." said Henry, wearily.

There was a long silence. Arthur looked to Edward. "Lastly, but not least!"

"….I'm Edward. I'm here because I was stupid and I made a mistake and I lost my temper, and I'm sorry, so can we please just…finish this up?"

And with that, silence descended as Arthur looked at his notes, carefully. "Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! Illuminating! ….Now we move on to phase two."

"I APOLOGISED!" Edward screamed, suddenly. "WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"

"Easy there, buckaroo." Arthur sighed. "Now, if my attendant could find some pleasant jazz music to listen to-" Pleasant jazz music was found "-perfecto! Now, we're going to start one on one sessions, and we'll report back to the group on what we've learned from those! …Let's start with Thomas!"

"I'd rather not!"

"Anyone else want to volunteer?"

There was the collective sound of seven engines slamming on their brakes as hard as could physically be allowed.

"No, I didn't think so!"

The wheel clamp was released just in time for a chain to yank the hapless engine off towards a secondary part of the therapy area.

The silence was deafening. At last, Toby broke it.

"Conspiracy?"

James said nothing to this.

….

The section of yard set aside for private, one on one interviews was a little hap-hazard, to put it mildly. There were no real areas to put the various motivational posters up in, so they were sort of just draped across the line. Arthur looked to Thomas calmly, wondering how best to approach this.

"So Thomas-"

Arthur took a deep breath

"-let's talk about you for a second."

"Ha! Do your worst!"

…..

ONE HOUR LATER.

"Holy shit, Arthur! What did you do?"

"My worst!"

Thomas returned to the group sobbing hysterically and in a very ugly manner. Everyone looked at him in horror, then at Arthur.

The latter engine was examining the notes he had taken over the course of the interview.

-Has insanely massive Napoleon complex. A real paradox.  
-A classic case of hurting those who he secretly likes.  
-Like me, clearly.  
-Though he hates a lot of people legitimately.  
-Also has father issues.  
-Doesn't really seem to have a best friend despite efforts to convince me that 'the small green one is quite desperate to be my mate', so there's that.  
-Ego is also dangerously swollen.  
-And yet somehow underdeveloped.  
-Has problem with authority.  
-Hates boards, mines, engines being assholes, engines not being able to take him being an asshole and common sense.  
-Reacted quite negatively to tapes I showed regarding other engines opinions of him.  
-The kind of personality that craves addiction and what he can't have.  
-Further examination needed.  
-Reacts negatively to onions.

"Right! Henry, you're next!"

Henry whimpered.


	69. Episode 4: Henry and the Wishing Tree

Ah. Chapter 69. Hehehe. Right, got that out of my system.

Henry and the Wishing Tree is a...weird one. In retrospect it's hard not to see this as the moment where it became clear that no one had any real idea of what to do with Henry (Which isn't THAT bad, as making him the super envious one as opposed to Gordon being super angry and James having constant prideful moments like in the books isn't really that unique, though it's something that I personally like) and thus we get...this. Sort of making him to be an idiot who doesn't understand how passengers work is really dumb, though the fact that he likes the forest is a nice holdover. A weak episode, but some impressive model work on the internal shots for my money.

Now, reviews!

 **Guest** : I think you repeated a lot of the reviews, so I'll just say thank you, I appreciate the song and yes, all of them did get through! I'm glad you enjoyed it!

 **Game-Watch:** You'll have to wait til next chapter for that, but I really hope you enjoy it when it comes!

 **MattPrice01:** The idea is to be slightly uncomfortable. It's very much something this season is going to be about, the very awkward and screwed up ways the original seven interact (Emily not so much). So I'm glad it worked, but I hope it wasn't TOO awkward.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** BE AFRAID.

 **UGX7** : I'm guessing that no one wanted to adapt anything from the original stories so the floodgates would have opened for requests? ...Not that that stopped them. We might, at some point!

 **jsw:** Very stupid! He has Norris blood somewhere!

 **Garchomp65:** I'll consider that!

 **The Nerdinator:** He was hungry? Or a therapy metaphor!

 **Streakofscarlet:** Toby is for definite on there somewhere. Edward...hmm...XD.

 **Shin-Dan Kuroto:** Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed! Yeah G-1 is something all right.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

THE PRESENT.

Harold stared at the ground in confusion. "Sah, can you just…make sure I'm seeing the bally thing right?"

"….Yes, you are."

"Why is that man sitting in the river and sulking?"

"Don't know."

"Does he know that there's a waterfall behind him?"

There was a loud cry of "Oh f**k!" and then a louder splash.

"He does now."

…..

It was, depending on whom you asked, either summer time or what appeared to be summer time, on the Island. There was a great flurry of activity, mostly for the sake of the establishing shots, but also because of a general tension in the air for some unknown reason.

Perhaps it was the loud braying donkey that was Gordon, holding court as he loudly proclaimed that he was the greatest, and someone should watch him fly by. With the amount of onlookers and increasing numbers of workers from the now reactivated Other Railway, the express was busy.

He was so far up his own tender that he gave not one care, however. More people to marvel at his beauty, his grace, and the fact that he was the wittiest engine since….well, ever, if he was being modest.

Meanwhile, there was Henry, who was now on truck pulling duty in the forest. He loved the peace and quiet of it, but he didn't see many people. Which was a positive, rather than a negative.

Again. He was in possession of a rather embarrassing nickname as a result of being stuck there. Mid-drunken rant, he had declared that he didn't want to be property of the MAN any more. He wanted a name that reflected his nature as a proud member of nature's garden.

And thus had some bright idiot christened him Henry the Big Cock.

The fact that the engines were now always making odd clucking noises every time he passed, and the fact that James was redder than ever and constantly on the verge of laughing every time he pulled in, gave Henry a few clues as to what the next year or so of life would bring him.

As was the case now, as he pulled into Knapford Station. Luckily, no one was focusing on him at present, but Henry had already got the general idea of what would happen when they focused upon him.

"Keep your smelly freight away from my passengers!"

Ah. And there it was.

"Morning Gordon. You seem in a good mood. Besides, it's only logs!"

"So what? Bloody hippie! Passengers and freight don't mix!"

Not for the first time, Henry wondered if Gordon realised how close he came to death on a daily basis. As he puffed away, he thought longingly about getting back out of the forest for a bit and pulling a passenger train again.

For the first time e-

"What?"

Oh, sorry Henry, this is the script they've given me. That'll be your first time ever pulling the express….ever.

"That's bollocks."

That's show business!

"I'd love to pull passengers! Just for a-GET THAT SCRIPT AWAY FROM ME!"

….

Later, Henry passed into the forest once again. He spotted a tree. This was not unexpected in the middle of a forest. However, the fact that there were kids standing around it was. "What are those kids doing?" He asked Thomas, who was there….for some reason.

"They're making a wish on the wishing tree!"

"Ah. A stupid answer for a stupid question. I getcha."

"Nah. That's the old Sodor Wishing tree!"

"HA! I think not, I've been here before their parents even met, and I've never heard of such a stupid thing!"

"You may mock, but it's true."

"Oh, how wonderful!" cried Henry in a mocking way. "And I suppose if I make a wish upon it, I shall get happy ever after and all my dreams!"

"You never know!" Thomas intoned ominously. And then he left, making loud cawing noises..

Henry growled at this, and then, just for a laugh, rolled forward. He closed his eyes, stuck out his lips like he'd taken something sour in the boiler and asked. "I wish that I could take the express! Ha! What tommy rot!"

That evening, the Fat Controller arrived, and in a slightly robotic manner, declared. "You shall pull the express tomorrow, Henry!"

"Ha! Thank you sir! Bloody Nora! TAKE THAT GORDON! Where is he, anyway?"

"Currently in works for coal sickness."

"A HA! Not so funny when it happens to you, is it, matey!? Now you can be the one having to go through life-altering surgery!"

"So bitter."

…

The next day, Henry arrived at the platform in good spirits. He waited as the passengers boarded, bubbling with smugness.

"Bawk, bawk."

He even ignored the drunk Carlin making those ridiculous noises. And once the last door had been slammed, he started off.

Yep.

…Ahem.

Sorry, did you not here me, Henry? Once the last door had been slammed, he started off.

"Guard hasn't blown his whistle yet."

Yep. But you need to start off.

"Why?"

Because it's in the script!

"But I've pulled trains before. Lots of them! Why-?"

Look, you can either start off or we can just sit here in awkward silence until you do!

"Okay, okay, FINE!"

He pulled off too quickly. The coaches smacked into each other and the guard roared out something about "Not starting until he blew the whistle!"

"Go gently!" hissed his driver, who was getting paid by the second. "You can bump freight but you can't bump passengers!"

"I KNOW!" hissed Henry. "Bloody script-writer! And you, Angelis, how about you shut your cakehole in the future?"

How about you pay me actual money instead?!

Silly old cock.

He puffed proudly through the countryside. "What a grand job!" He declared to all who would listen, and quite a few that did not. "I wonder what Gordon's up to!"

Gordon was miserably sitting in the Works, staring bleakly at the television. He was being fitted with a new boiler, very painfully. And to add to that, he was also stuck watching the most mind-numbing program he'd seen in ages.

"Not more Andy Pandy!" He protested. "Have I done something wrong!?"

"Look, we spent an awful lot of money getting the rights to air this stuff, and our contract states we have to re-run every episode at least one hundred and thirty nine times! Get used to it!"

They hadn't. The foreman of the Works just wanted to torment Gordon for the hell of it. And having to listen to Andy Pandy and Looby Loo, not to mention Teddy too, was more torment than any sane person over the age of twelve could take. He missed his passengers immensely.

And for once, the feeling was mutual. They were having the bumpiest ride, helped in no small measure by the fact that Henry had been sent onto the wobbliest track ever constructed for, to quote the signalman, shits and giggles.

Later on-

"HENRY YOU DOLT!"

-came the Fat Controller.

"Sir! It's not my fault! It was the wind!"

"Did the wind make you do a full loop-de-loop for fifteen minutes!?"

"In my defence, that was the tracklayers fault. No one's told them that the Island of Sodor is not the next Sonic the Hedgehog game."

"Passengers are not logs, no matter how much we wish that was the case! You have to treat them right!"

"Sir, your marriage is of no concern to me."

"AH HA! Being a Sassy Gordon, eh? Well on principle, you're being left behind tomorrow. Henry, suit up and prepare yourself! Don't screw it up, it's not the Flying Kipper now!"

"Yes sir." He muttered. Henry had no idea how to treat people gently. It had been knocked out of him after the fifth or sixth time pulling the Kipper. Gordon was looking miserable in the corner. "My wish has made Gordon go to the repair yard! And in doing so, he's getting a day off! The lazy git!"

This made him feel very bad. Mainly for himself.

The next day he had to collect the buffet car. He decided, that on principle, he would try to be gentle.

There wasn't much of a station left after he had attempted this, needless to say the buffet car (Instead of coach, we have to be polite to the yanks, I guess) was in pretty bad shape.

"MAMMA MIA!" declared the Italian Barber, who had become a chef due to the hard times that he had been going through. "You MAKE-A ME SO MAD!"

"I want to go HOME!" Henry wailed, and he stormed off to make one last wish. "Now, let's see…I know this forest like the back of my buffers!"

…..

TWO HOURS LATER.

"I wish I could pull freight again!"

"I wish I could pull freight again!"

"I wish I could pull freight again!"

Thomas stared at Henry in bafflement. "Uh….what? I imagined plenty of mental breakdowns, but this was not one of them."

"I have lost the tree that grants wishes! So I'm wishing on all of them! I wish I could pull-SIR TOPHAM HATT!?"

"Oi! Watch it! I'm a married man! Also, WHAT THE HELL. Confusion and delay are reignth!" He listened as Henry told him about the wishing tree in gradual bafflement. "THAT TREE DOES NOT RUN THIS RAILWAY! I AM THE KING! Gordon can run the train tomorrow, at least he gets his work done on time! Bloody hippie!"

"THANK GOD."

….

"It's not Henry!"

"HOORAY!" shouted the passengers.

"I'll take it!" said Gordon, cheerfully. Elsewhere, Henry hid in the forest and talked to the squirrels, on occasion wishing that he never had to interact with people ever, EVER again.

The wishing tree, meanwhile, was cut down by Zero. Just on chance.

….

THE PRESENT.

"So, Henry, let's talk about you for a minute." Arthur's smile was that of a kindly funeral director. Well-intentioned, but seemingly unaware of how badly he was going to handle the feelings of the engine in front of him. "Let's start, with a few simple tests."

The projector behind the engine whirred into life.

"You're familiar with this, I imagine."

"Ink blots?"

"Uh huh! Given that I have no hands, we figured what the hey, let's just use a projector. So…tell me Henry?"

Click.

"What does this look like to you?"

Henry considered this question. "A….fish."

"….just that?"

"Why, is it not a fish?"

"Nope! Just checking!" Click. "And this?"

"That looks like a mushroom cloud."

"Uh huh." Click. "This?"

"That looks like a penis."

Arthur didn't even blink. "And this one?" Click.

"A rainbow."

Arthur paused, looked at the pure blackness of the ink, then back at Henry, then at the notes being made, and then back at the blot again, before moving on. "One last one. What does this look like?"

Click.

"That looks like it's a picture of me bleeding out heavily in the middle of the snow while James and Edward try to get rid of the Flying Kipper."

"Ah. That's suggestive."

"….That's not an ink blot."

Arthur paused, and then looked behind him. "Isn't it?!"

Henry narrowed his eyes, confused as to whether or not Arthur was, in fact, bullshitting him, or was legitimately that stupid.

"But that leads us into a great Segway for the main topic of discussion! Namely….how are you feeling, Henry?"

"Great."

"Really?"

"Yep. Dandy."

A small twitch began to occur in Henry's left cheek.

"Because we've been mostly keeping you stone cold sober over the last two to three days. No drugs, not even the medicinal kind, in an attempt to get to know the real Henry. We're curious, did you die?"

...

 _1984_

 _"We're losing him!"_

 _"Ruddy hell he's going fast!"_

 _"Why's he smiling?!"_

 _"Oh shit we might need to improvise!"_

...

"I-" The twitch was now beginning to spread to most of the muscles in his face. "What do you-"

"See, because I've got the results of the Crewe tests on you. It's officially stated that as soon as you got out of there, you put yourself down as 'Henry 2.0', saying that the original you died in there. There's a running bet going on along the mainland as to whether or not you're a clone or not."

"Not a clone." Henry's throat was burning, suddenly.

"Then, what-"

"How about we talk about…something else?!"

"…..Sure!" Arthur's demeanour snapped back into peppy mode. "The drugs, apparently, include Welsh Coal. Slipping back onto that again."

"Ah, that's the company. Apparently they've changed it. Made it better. Less addictive."

"Considering that you have, at present, been recorded checking into detox on a weekly basis since the season started a while back, I think we should probably question that."

"Are you a doctor, too?" Arthur smiled. Henry sighed. "What was it for?"

"The Flatline Squad! Won an Emmy, if I recall correctly! We all had to learn how to actually be doctors for five seasons. Operated on actual people too!"

"…..And how was that?"

"Interesting!"

Henry paused, and then decided that this was beginning to freak him out a little. "So, what exactly is my problem?"

"Well, let's see….we asked some of your friends about you a few days before we even started putting together a file. Aren't you interested in hearing what they have to say?"

Henry suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "I'd really rather not."

"Gordon says that he is surprised that you are currently still alive from the consistent amount of drugs that you put into your system-"

"Allegedly. I cannot stress that enough!"

"-Emily says that you're fairly decent but the fact of the matter is, your entire nervous system is screwed up, and you appear to have the worst luck and health she's ever had to witness…I'm cleaning her language here a little and also dropping the accent. It is...significantly strong. What else? Ah, Toby says that you are a good engine." Henry beamed. "Now, if only you'd stop growing drugs along his old line, he'd find you grand."

"He's lucky anyone even uses that line anymore! Besides, THAT'S ALLEGEDLY!"

"Edward says that he thinks you've really come along since the old days where you were, and I quote here, "A bit of a whiny prick who was miserable all the time." He then goes on to hurriedly shout "IN THE BEST WAY POSSIBLE!" before running away from our question asker. Really, why this didn't tip him off, I'll never know." Arthur looked at Henry. "What does that say about them to you?"

"That they're not really on the level. And that Gordon and Edward have clearly forgotten the seventies!"

…..

 ** _THE SEVENTIES. DOES IT REALLY MATTER WHAT YEAR?_**

"THIS IS THE POLICE!"

"GUV, HE'S HOLDING!"

"The hell are you talking out?!" cried Edward, his moustache splendid even for this time period. "This is over the counter stuff!"

"And who told you this?!"

"Gordon did!"

"WELL, CHUBBY?!"

"I dunno." Gordon shrugged, or did the engine equivalent of, as he munched down on some crisps. "I've never met this man before."

"YOU LITT-"

"Enough! All right sunshine, we'll let you go if you give us every last bit of your stash!" Edward growled, but had little choice. Worst part was he hadn't even had time to take

"Ahhhhhh." Declared the police chief, as he smoked the doobie. "This is that grade A stuff, lads! Clearly this is Stoner Norris's best batch yet! Come on, let's go beat up on some minorities!"

"For what?"

"Does it matter, Sergeant!?"

"Huh? What?" Henry woke up as they were leaving, their cars wailing off like the Keystone Kops. "What just-"

"Go back to sleep, Henry."

…

"I see…well, that was a very interesting story. But I want to go back to one point, namely about how you used to be. You know. Before the accident."

"You are a very persistent engine, Arthur. And crap at being subtle."

"Now, it's generally agreed that you were one of the more louder engines when it came to having your displeasure known, before James became….James. But after the accident, you've seemed to become a new engine. By comparison, that is. ….Enjoy the forest?"

"I-Uh, yes?"

"You've been involved in many campaigns. The Save Hospitable Inhabits Today group. The Forest United Caring Kings alliance. And of course, the most infamous, the Warriors Against Nature's Korrupted-Spelt with a K, I assume-Evil Ruination!"

"For the record, those were NOT THE NAMES I CHOSE! Gordon told me they would be great on a banner!"

"Again, funny that you never seemed to care about the environment before the crash."

"Do you have a POINT!?"

"….What happened in the crash, Henry? Are you, in fact, a pod person? Or perhaps a clone?"

"NO!"

"Then what happened to you!"

"You know what happened!"

"No. You know what happened in there-" Arthur moved his eyes in the direction of Henry's skull "-better than anyone. Did you literally come out of that workshop a new engine? Because I've got to say, I'm not seeing the connection here!"

Henry looked more than a little shaken up. "You're full of it, you know! And…And this Island is being bloody predictable! No bloody good environmental protection services, no good drug stores, no…NO good therapists! I'd like to leave now! Very, VERY much now!"

"I'm sorry you feel that way Henry! But thank you for explaining things a little more. Hopefully we can continue this conversation later! Oh, and one last thing!"

Henry was already moving back out when this statement was being uttered.

Five hundred nerf pellets to the face later, Henry stormed back to the others with tears in his eyes. "I'M NOT A CLONE!" He shouted in Toby's face.

"I…never assumed you were."

Arthur looked once more at his own notes.

-Lingering PTSD from first Kipper incident.  
-So unused to being off the drugs that he's having a hard time readjusting to how normal engines talk to each other  
-Addictive personality  
-Some desperate attempt to hide something with the drugs, considering how many varieties he's taken.  
-Something not right about personality before the crash anyway.  
-Crewe records could indicate some other personality? ….Or that there was some mistakes on their part?  
-Seems mildly popular, doesn't really seem to care how others view him, but could just be better at hiding it than Thomas.  
-Does not like the Nerf Gun. Some kind of maniac, obviously.  
-Pod Person?  
-Possibly.

"Next up isssss….James."

"What a load of RABBISH! …I didn't say that. I didn't say that STOP SNICKERING!"


	70. Episode 5: James Gets a New Coat

Fuck this episode was actually...decent? I actually had a lot of fun writing and watching this episode. This feels like a David Mitton script, sans polishing and stretched out to a longer time than necessary, but still, decent enough script for the time! Shows off some varied locations of the Island, even if the trucks have a weird new cackle that might take me some time to get used to. And even the endign feels funny, even with the 'everyone laughs' cliche attached to it. So...I had a lot of fun with this, far better than I expected.

Now, reviews!

 **Reality Show Rejection** : Hmm...interesting theories. And yeah, deconstruction's the new of this particular game, this time around!

 **Game-Watch:** Agreed on both counts.

 **AaronCottrell97** : My work here is done! XD. But I hope you're at least interested in seeing how it turns out, a bit.

 **MattPrice01:** Yeah, the stuff in the seventies was a quick little gag. That's not coming back, but I'm interested to see how you take the rest of the season, considering the direction I am taking with this (Oh, and BTW, that 'essay' I was talking about? Coming in this season at some point. Hope you enjoy and stick with it.

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Ha! I know, right?

 **UGX7** : Agreed. Both good ideas, lacking the proper rewriting. And I'm still glad to surprise you!

 **jsw:** Thanks! Glad you like it!

 **Garchomp65:** Hmm. Okay. So here's the thing. Season 22 is...awkward to define. On the one hand, a lot of the humour can and still does work better than the humour of these dark times I'm writing about now. On top of that, I really like Rebecca. Not as a replacement for Henry or Edward (I'm still not sure why Molly couldn't have been drafted in but whatever) but as a character she's fun. And when the series sticks to Sodor I think it's a lot better. Also, a proper Edward episode! At last! On the other hand, Nia's bland, the way they addressed the change is clumsy at best, the dream sequences are now reaching the point of parody and a lot of the international stuff feels...well, tacked on. Not to say there's not stuff I don't like in that part, but I really prefer being back on Sodor. So...mixed bag, leaning towards negative, BUT it's not without it's positives. However, re:McCue...yeah, dick move on his part. For whatever reason I am thinking of ending TA at S21 nad JBS at present, just to go out on a (relative) high.

 **The Nerdinator:** RABBISH!

 **Hughie96:** Thanks! Yeah, it's something that happened primarily due to the mixture of stories changing as we entered Season 2 and onwards, I've decided to work it in. Ha! Wow, that's actually true. Scary. Hope it gets better again once the fans get a hold of it, like Sonic!

 **GreatWestern1522:** Whoooo knows?

 **Aussie Mantis:** I shall not confirm a thing! :)

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

THE PRESENT.

"Well, there's a repeat of James's chat show."

"Oh god, which one?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, not really. How's it going?"

"Well thus far he's attempted to kill Bungle. So I guess it depends on whether or not you enjoyed Rainbow or not. Oh, and there he goes, he's starting up his song again."

"Which one? Jamming with James? James's Song to Unite the World? James Solves World Hunger? James with Bob Geldorf...'s lesser known doppelganger?"

"Er…bloody hell. The musician's hand a few. Oh, it's the old 'James, King of All That is Great and Glorious'."

"Of course it is. How does it go again?"

…..

"Who was the first to be brave as could be?  
Who's always been there for you, you and me?  
Who's going to live til he's ten thousand and three?  
Its James, it's James, really just James!"

Thus sang James. He continued:

"Who makes the Number Five simply sublime?  
Who'd be arrested if being a national treasure was a crime?  
Who, for the love of all that is good and pure does not want to be coloured lime?  
It's James, it's James, really just James!"

"Not sure about the length of those verses, James." Henry remarked. "Or the tune. Or the vocals. Or the meaning behind them."

"Bah! What do you know, Mr…Non-Musically Gifted Related Insult? Eh? You probably find Nickelback entertaining enough!"

"Screw you too!" Henry stormed out of the wash-down with a furious huff. The huff decided to part ways with him. Ba-dum-tsh.

The Fat Controller's engines all want to be bright and clean. That is true of any engine or person really, but it has to be said, just on the off chance some sprog decides to refuse their bath.

James was enjoying the full works. A full waxing of his body, a full shine on his dome, and of course, a repainting at the workshop. He was very smug, and given that no one could touch him until they were finished with him, he had good reason to be. He was besides himself with joy.

Joy, of course, hated James, but had to sit next to him because

Oh, hang on. Note from editor. Apparently that's a really shitty joke that we've already run into the ground. What, after the first go? All right, whatever!

"Am I not the greatest!?" He declared. At last, he was repainted, his dome was gleaming and his blacking…black- Is that offensive?! No?! ….How?!

Er, well with all that done, he steamed out, happy as Larry, on his way back to Tidmouth Shed.

…..

"How the hell can you forget where you live for the past twenty years?" snapped Henry, as James finally chugged in, ten hours late.

"Don't know. It's a skill, though." Emily's smirk faded almost instantly, as James sidled into his place with a massive grin on his face.

"AREN'T I SCRUMPTIOUS?!" He declared.

"Hmm." Gordon looked around. "Might be, if you toned it down a little."

James looked at Gordon for a moment. Then he leaned in, took a deep breath and went to whisper-

"NO!"

-which was still like getting a foghorn blasted in your ear. Gordon winced and spent the next few hours working out whether he had tinnitus.

"AM I NOT SPLENDID? I am the best red that there ever was! Skarloey and Rheneas can go take a hike! No wonder ol Tubby thinks I'm special and wonderful and deserve my own TV show?!"

"Actually Rheneas is Vermilion, apparently. I don't see it myself-"

"WHO CARES, PERCY!? I don't! Not me! I'm far too important to care about silly matters like that!" James was in one of those moods. But Percy was worried. He wasn't getting repainted. Or red. Though that he thanked his lucky stars for, because James gave the colour red a bad name, shade and everything in between.

"Does that mean no one loves me!?" He asked, at the top of his lungs. Edward muttered something about engines needing to learn how to moderate their voices.

"Looking splendid and being useful are two completely different things! Isn't that right, Edward?!"

"I'm….not sure if that's a compliment or not."

"PAH!" James hissed. "You've never even looked like you're ten pounds! So don't have a go at me when I look like a million pounds, at the least! In this bad light, I could be one billion! I'm the one billion pound engine! And I'm BOTH of those…things you just said! An on that note-"

And thus he fell asleep. Mid-rant.

And thus, the nightly ritual of 'Shit-talking James when he's asleep' started up.

"What a prick." Henry growled.

"Hate him." Gordon agreed.

"He's not so bad."

"You're stuck with him tomorrow, Perce."

"He's a piece of trash!"

…..

The next day, work happened. Percy was shoved into the coal mines as punishment for Carlin giving the local stationmaster backchat once too often. Thomas and Emily took passengers up and down the rather harried consolidation of the local branchlines, both in a rather bad mood. Gordon was pulling the express as per usual. And making a pigs ear of it.

The Fat Controller came to see James, who was being a lazy git. He told James to go and join Percy in the coaling plant at once.

"Go and join Percy in the coaling plant at once!"

See?

"The coal gets to Brendam before the boat leaves! No dilly dallying, or my arse is grass! And the Railway Board is the lawnmower! What I'm saying is don't mess it up!"

"Me, sir?! Do I look like a dallier to you?!"

Sir Topham Hatt hesitated. "Well, I mean, there were always rumours about you- I mean NO. Not at all." He could see ER (Engine Resources) tapping their fingers in a menacing manner.

"Oh TODAY shall be a great day-"

And James immediately forgot what it was he was supposed to be doing, in favour of going on tour. No I don't get it either. Elsewhere, Hatt decided to calm himself down with another cream bun or eight.

…..

"Who makes Gordon seem like a out of work hick?  
Who makes Henry want to be really quite sick-REFLECTION!"

"Whooooo outshines the tank engines with cunning so slick?"

"IT'S JAMES IT'S JAMES IT'S REALLY JUST JAMES!"

James took the long way around, besides the canal. The diseased canal, the one where the toxic sludge and radioactive goo was dumped. He could see his own reflection for yard after yard after yard, as long as he ignored the moaning wails of the cancer-stricken crabs.

And he was still singing.

"MAGNIFICENT!"

"Oooh ta!" said one of the workmen, kissing his muscles.

Having completely forgotten his purpose, and dallying significantly, James decided to go buy a new hat for himself.

….

"Bloody hell I'm knackered!" Percy declared, as he rolled up to the nearby workman with a significant amount of coal trucks behind him. "This is all your fault, Carlin!"

"Oh, everything is! Why don't you get a new f**king target?!" Carlin coughed as the coal dust entered his lungs. "Oh world, why do you hate me so, you f**king asswipes!"

"I think I've figured it out." The fireman said, holding his nose. "We're falling behind!"

The yard manager was growing crosser and crosser. "Why the bloody hell do I get all the shit engines to work down here?!" he asked, desperately. "What did I do wrong?! Was it the fraud? It must have been the fraud!"

…..

"Doop doop de doop! I'm the greatest!" James sang, terribly I might add. In both the lyrical and the tonal sense. And probably a few others. He was having a ball of a time with his brand new four decker hat, but there was no around to boast to. So he decided to go to the one place where it was logical that people would listen to him.

"COOOOOOOO-EEE!"

Wellsworth, where Edward hangs out.

Common sense is not the strong suit of the James, it must be said.

Gordon took one look at James and stormed out of the station with the express, passengers in tow. All were gone within ten seconds.

"Bother!" said James. "What could have possibly alerted them to ME?!" He ignored the sound of glass shattering and went on in his quest to be recognized, in the general direction of the branch-lines.

After, of course, he bought a pair of radical eighties sunglasses. Because anything to get attention was A-OK by him.

He passed Thomas, who was pulling Dead Weight One and Dead Weight Two to work. I mean, er, Annie and Clarabel, of course. "Look at me!" He slurred in his rather toxic accent. "Don't I look fine?!"

"You look like a twit. Go to work like the rest of us!" cried Thomas, who had been reading books about the working class killing the bourgeois, and was getting certain ideas in his head.

James had blacked out this part of the speech. "Look at me! Am I not perfection!?" he said to the world in general, and Henry, who groaned loudly. "Am I not grand? Am I not-"

…..

"A PIECE OF GARBAGE!"

Carlin and the Yard Manager, now best buddies thanks to their hatred of James the Habitually Late Engine, were taking it in turns ranting about said engine with great rage and anger. This time, it was Carlin's turn.

Percy wasn't enjoying being himself. The trucks were very…chipmunk like in their laughter. It was quite annoying.

"WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO THE ORDER NOW?!"

"Order?!" Percy laughed hysterically. "We're on Sodor, that word might as well mean mud here!"

"Aye-up!" James said, entering with hat, sunglasses and extra whitened teeth put into a massive grin. "All good here?!"

"All is NOT good here! You better make up for lost time and take the extra long line of trucks to the dock! Go wherever the hell you like, I don't care! As long as you get to the docks!"

"Perfect!" James beamed. "More people to introduce to the best thing about this Island!"

"It's reasonably priced chocolate cake?"

"MOI! It is THE place to be seen!"

"Trucks are being little shits as per usual. You need to be-" Percy was cut off by James hurrying around to collect them.

"What's that!? I can't hear you over my SWAG!" And off he set, for some reason pushing the trucks. To look even more heroic, as he would later tell it. Though there were some who argued that he had forgotten how trains worked for a scant few minutes.

He moved down the track and the hill with the grace of a swan…that had been hit by a car. But as he did so, the trucks decided the pride had gone too long, and the fall was long overdue.

One of them rocked. The other rolled. And thus the pattern began.

"You may think you will get the better of me, but you are sorely- NO! COAL DUST! GO AWAY FROM ME! MY SOUL IS NOT FOR YOUR TAKING YET, DEMON!" He buckled, and then with a tremendous roar of rage that would have put an anime protagonist to shame, he banged into the trucks.

A pity he was going down Gordon's Hill at the time.

As they hurtled towards the open line, James slammed on the brakes. Lumps of coal flew forward and banged into him. His hat was promptly sent flying. "RIGHT" he said, and hit the trucks harder.

This did not help matters. And so, with great hatred etched in his voice, he tried to motivate himself.

"Who's not going to lose to an overactive truck?  
Who's got charm, cunning and ounces of luck?  
Who is really quite cool and calm and collected and doesn't give a-FUCK!"

This time, he was fairly sure he had broken his own nose and inhaled too much dust for it to be legal.

"It's James, it's James, really just Ja-blargh!"

He didn't want to be seen anymore. But, as if Karma had notched her arrows into place, now everyone seemed to want a piece of him. First Emily, who appeared to be snickering about something or other relating to James. Then Edward, who took one look at him and let out a large groan. And then Thomas.

"OI! Red face!"

But James ignored him, as he trundled into the docks. "Activating stealth mode!" He bleated, hoping against all hope it would work.

"James?"

Gordon apparently possessed the ability to see invisible people. Or see through bullshit, as James trundled past him at a speed that could best be described as lethargically snail-like. "You look like a prat!" He crowed. James shrank a little in size. Now, nothing could be worse.

Percy puffed in, clean as a whistle, with the last of the trucks. "I like the new look!" He said, without any hint of sarcasm at all. "You look splendid! Old school?"

This innocent comment made James rage against the heavens. What had he done to deserve this? He had been a little preoccupied with being noticed, but hadn't the world met him? He was HIM.

He could, however, hear clearly. The trucks were laughing.

And despite feeling foolish, he had to laugh along.

Then he massacred all twenty trucks while breaking the sound barrier. He then fell in the sea, and had to be fished out by Cranky. So a pretty average day overall.

…..

"So how are you faring today, James? I may call you James, may I?"

"Unless you have AN ALTERNATIVE?!"

"….Yes, how about we turn the volume down a tad?"

"THIS IS ME TURNNG THE VOLUME DOWN A BIT."

"Uh huh. Okay. Seems like that's symptomatic of…something, but one problem at a time." Arthur's smile was like a mlllion lightbulbs. Pretty to look at, blinding after a while, and probably costly. "So. How's your day been?"

"TERRIBLE."

"Ah. I am sorry to hear that. So let us begin with a simple test! What do you see, when you look at this?"

The projector whirred into life.

"Me in the eighties."

Click.

"Uh huh. And this?"

"Me in the nineties."

Click.

"Me in my avant-garde phase."

"Hmm…."

"What?"

"Nothing. Nothing." Click. "This?"

"My worshipping fans."

"Really?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Okay, you know what you see. And, er, this?"

Click.

"That's…..the hell is that?"

"That's what I'm asking you, haha-"

"That's a photograph of me in the 80's getting called the 'Red Engine' repeatedly, over and over again. By a bunch of…numbskulls!"

"If you insist. An interesting link, but one that's useful. How about you tell me how you feel when you see that photograph?"

"Tip top!" The force of the cheeriness was quite something. "Never better! I'm James!"

"I see. You don't sound tip top!"

"How the hell do you know what that is? You're a B-List Celeb, whereas I am….higher than that!"

"Hmm, interesting, given that we've denied you most of your…ah, special tricks. To go and dazzle us with. Tell me, what do you mean by this is a conspiracy?"

"Ha! A joke! That's all! A joke!"

"Some jokes are funny. But not this one James-"

"HAVE I MENTIONED-" James blustered "-HOW GREAT I AM?!"

"You probably should!" Arthur's sudden demeanour change would have been a warning sign to anyone other than James. "Tell me a bit about yourself. Like…your early days?"

"Back then-" James said, loftily. "-I was always something of a rising star. They couldn't see it, of course. Back then I was just a-"

"Red Engine?"

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?" James's eye was blinking rapidly. "Yes that is a sequence of words that was applied to me for a very brief period in early nineteen eighty four. Your point being?"

"Why so sensitive?"

"Aren't you supposed to have bedside manner, or something?"

"Never been by a bed!" Arthur's cheeriness was beginning to anger James. "Too big to get into the house!"

"Okay, how about you come out and say it, whatever it is?"

Arthur made a great deal of looking at his notes. "Well, er, currently I'm working on the theory that you're doing a lot of what you do to cover up for the fact that for four to five months, you were referred to exclusively by engines, workers, staff, trucks, coaches and film crew alike as 'The Red Engine'. Bit of a blow to your pride?"

"I have more pride than you'd know what to do with!"

"I know! I've got testimonials from some of your old pals! Do you want to-?"

"Yes! Ha! You'll see when you hear about me! I'm massive everywhere! My old friend Tom Hanks, he'll tell you!" He looked at Arthur's confused face, and wilted slightly. "Then…Roger Moore!" Confusion, and another wilt. "Windsor Davies?" More confusion, and three quarters wilt. "…..Tim what was on Brookside?"

Truly, the scale of James's knowledge of celebrities was wide and varied.

"The Island of Sodor kind of friends, James!" Arthur cleared his throat. "So we asked around, and well, you'd be surprised. For instance, Toby said that you were probably deeply racist against anyone but yourself, but that he liked being around you."

"You see?" James bleated weakly. "I'm popular!"

"Emily said that you have the charm and charisma of a bull in a china shop with googly eyes painted on?"

"….Is…Is that positive, or-?"

"Not entirely sure, to be honest. And Edward said, and I quote "He's so full of it, I hate it when he starts talking because I'm fairly certain I'm going to stab him at some point. And then I remember I don't have arms, and I get even angrier. Also, he might be the best liar of the lot, better than Gordon. Even after all this time, I'm still not entirely sure what he actually thinks of us as opposed to being so far beneath him it's not even funny. Oh, but he's probably good deep down. I guess."

Arthur looked at James. "So, how does that make you feel?"

"Well they're wrong. Obviously. And I'm right. Because I'm me."

"Are you sure there's not a tiny bit of substance to the claim that you're essentially hung up on a little insult made twenty years ago?"

"YOU TRY BEING CALLED RED ENGINE FOR-" James let out a sharp breath. "I'd like to leave now. Get the rest of this awful day over with!"

"Of course! Nothing to stop you. By the way, er, just a little heads up, there's one last thing I need to do."

"What?"

"CATCH!"

….

Once James had recovered from the large bowling ball being thrown at him, he left very angrily and very furiously. He glared at Edward, and spat at him. The wind blew it right back in his face.

"What?" Edward looked baffled.

"Was that really necessary?" snapped Toby.

"You haven't heard what he's said about you!" James hissed. Henry nodded in a grave fashion.

Arthur looked at the notes he had taken.

-Very, very, VERY Narcissistic, might actually have that condition.  
-Stews over decade long grudges and mistakes for a very long time, hasn't forgotten any of it.  
-Very angry at being made a fool of. Despite it happening on an hourly basis.  
-Impressively the holder of both a superiority complex and an inferiority complex. At the same time. I am stunned.  
-Might actually be the best liar of the lot. Still have no idea whether any of the above or beneath has any relevance or if he's putting on the high strung act to mess with me and get him to underestimate him.  
-Fascinated to the point of obsession with his own appearance. Would suggest OCD, but considering just how he is in general, maybe he's just weird as all hell.  
-Apparently once beat up a giant monster shadow creature because he got a scratch on his paintwork, so there's that.  
-Has a very weak skull.  
-For the love of god, turn the volume down on his voice.

"All right! And now, if you would please….Toby!"

"Give me strength." The tram muttered. "All right, all right. If I'm not back in a few hours, apologise to Henrietta for me, will you?"


	71. Episode 6: Thomas Saves the Day

Wow, so it's been a month and a bit since our last time doing this, eh?

Okay, so let's briefly discuss the whys and hows of my absence. I am currently writing up essays for my university semester until January, so I'm focusing on that a lot. Coupled with that is my own sense of having to cope with the repetitive nature of the stories we have now, and adapting to it has taken some time, more so than I admit. I will fully admit that this episode is shorter than usual, and that's because I wanted to get it out to you in a workable state so that I can start afresh with the new one. My apologies.

Now, reviews!

 **Reality Show Rejection** : Oh yeah, granted. James isn't the worst person in the world, but he's also really, really not the best. He's capable of great moments of kindness, but he's narcissistic as all hell, especially for the reasons you mentioned there.

 **Game-Watch:** I think even he forgets that some times.

 **AaronCottrell97** : Hmm...it's interesting, isn't it?

 **MattPrice01:** I hope you're feeling better now buddy!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Indeed. When will he learn!?

 **UGX7** : Thank you for both, I'm glad you like them!

 **jsw:** Well now you do!

 **Garchomp65:** That's fair and I respect your opinion.

 **Streakofscarlet:** Yeah that's about the size of it. And yeah, that head injury also didn't really help. Like. At all.

 **Aussie Mantis:** NOT JAMES INDEED.

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

"So here's what I don't get, right?"

The six engines glanced over to James with something approaching annoyance. He had been mostly quiet for the proceeding ten minutes, stewing over whatever it was his interview had churned up, but clearly their luck had run out.

"We beat the Other Railway, right? So why don't we just…I don't know, go after them and beat the shit out of our enemy?"

"Well, first of all, going after them would imply we knew where they were. True, we've got a significant number on the Island in general, but the leaders and such aren't located here right now."

"Semantics, Edward!"

"I've eaten those, they're delicious!"

Everyone looked at Percy for a moment, then moved on with their lives.

"And secondly, and more importantly….we can't prove anything, so attacking them will get us in trouble like Duck did."

"How do you figure that, oh fearless leader?" Henry was also in a bad mood when it came to Edward.

"Well Henry, if you must know, the entire reason we weren't held liable for what happened during the Battle of Sodor was because our lawyers were able to argue very convincingly that they attacked first, which we did, and thus it was all legal self-defence." He took a deep breath. "So if we did something now like…well, James going nuts like he did on Marklin, or Gordon smashing through as many engines as he can, aside from being really, really cool, it'd get us locked away, and they'd be free to carry on with whatever."

"Ah. How convenient."

"Gordon-"

"Edward!" Gordon mimicked Edward's tone with a slightly snooty tone to it.

…..

It was a gloriously miserable summer-ish day on the Island of Sodor. On this day, several of the engines were in a personal hell of their own making.

"Bloody hell, never thought I'd be back to doing this stuff again!" wheezed Toby, as he took a long line of milk along the shortcuts. "And this time I can't even blame it on Daisy being a lazy-"

"WHEEEEEEEEEE!" Well, most of them were in personal hells. James, meanwhile, was having the time of his life, yes I swear, pulling a large express train. Gordon would later found out and go on long rants about how it was clear that engines were coming in and taking his job. He had clearly forgotten that he and James had lived together for twenty years.

Not that he was having a good day of it either. He and Edward were stuck together at Wellsworth while waiting for the signal to get fixed.

And Thomas was taking Annie and Clarabel to work as he puffed along without a care in the world. They were on their way to the latest new station being built, as part of the new owner's initiative, Kellsthorpe. He had to take the workmen there and bring them home, though given the speed he was going at, it was hard to imagine him being good at it.

"I can't wait for the grand opening, so I can move on with my life! And do something more important! …Like star in another commercial!"

…..

"Have YOU ever wanted to wear my winking face-" Thomas winked very exaggeratedly "-on your body? Well look no further than the Thomas and Friends brand new hoodie? Ignore all the 'cool' kids who say that you're a child when wearing it, because they're going to suffer from crippling depression later on in life as they try desperately to recapture their glory days! The Thomas and Friends hoodie! People have said about it "Man, I've never had such a hood, winking at me before!" and "It's a hoodwink!" I…I'm not sure what they mean about that, but- NO I DON'T WANT TO DO ANOTHER TAKE! Thomas and Friends hoodie! When you want to have the hood pulled over your eyes! WHAT DO YOU MEAN CUT?!"

…..

"I think it went rather well!" Thomas protested, as his driver and fireman scoffed, loudly. "And anyway, there's going to be flags and a big band at this concert. Maybe I can lure them to do another radio song again! I haven't hit the top ten yet, but this might be my year!"

And so, filled with such ideas in his head, he carried along cheerily until he came to a certain area of the track.

Kellsthorpe had always been a part of the railway, one of the parts that were rather unimportant in the grand scheme of things, usually just folded into one of the larger areas as opposed to being given it's proper title. But it was infamous among the engines for a certain piece of track, functionally harmless to anyone under the speed limit and left ungreased.

Which was why it may be of interest for you to learn that a not too significant amount of butter was being prepared at this very moment for that certain piece of track by the filmcrew.

Just keep that in mind.

"Danger, a head?" Thomas muttered to himself. "Can't see any decapitations around here-OH HECK." He was worried about the bend ahead, but his good friends Annie and Clarabel were there to help.

I say help. I mean do basic shit.

"SLOW DOWN!" they shrieked, helpfully. And yes, that was quite sarcastic, why do you ask? "PUFF WITH CARE!"

So he did those things and somehow survived. "Thanks!" He said, deeply mocking. "Could not have done this without you."

He was about to be tested on that.

"Today-" said the Fat Controller "-Annie and Clarabel shall be going for their refit!"

"Ah HA!" Thomas did his best Alan Patridge impression and grinned. "Well, it appears that the cats are away, and the mice shall be going on the boozer!"

"Hold up, Thomas. You're taking them to the workshop/spa. And then you're going to be doing a looooot of fetching and carrying. So no. No boozer for you until this mess of a station is done. Speaking of which, how's it going Jenny?"

"Ah TAKE A HIKE YE OVERGROWN PIECE OF SHITE!"

"All right then. You heard her!"

"But…but how will I carry all of these things?!" cried Thomas, who was desperate to duck out of this responsibility by hook or by crook, or by both.

"Do what the other engines do and use normal coaches like a non-freak!"

"Right." Thomas puffed away angrily.

….

He said goodbye to the two of them and walked glumly off, Charlie Brown theme playing in his head. "HOW WILL I MANAGE THAT ONE BEND?!" He cried, with a hint of sarcasm once more in his tone.

Their frowns turned upside down the second he rounded the bend, and they promptly began to party as much as coaches could. Which was not a lot.

The next day, Thomas woke up, drenched Edward and Percy with steam and headed off to the coach yard. "Well, things can't get worse!" He looked around, found two coaches and smacked straight into them, bumping into James.

"Watch out, arsehole!"

"Watch out yourself!" cried Thomas. He would never have biffed into Annie and Clarabel, if only because they'd never let him hear the end of it. Well, Annie at least. Clarabel might be up for it.

He started off a few minutes later. He missed two workmen exiting, looking around and wondering where the hell the coaches 'Old Lunatic' and 'The Coach in Name Only' had vanished off to. In retrospect, the day was off to an awful start as it was.

"Difficult bend, difficult bend, bifficult dend, defficult bind!" Thomas was getting more and more muddled up as he wondered vaguely why such emphasis had been placed on the area in the script. Surely it wasn't that bad.

And yet the bend approached.

He accelerated.

There was a sound like a huge vat of butter being dropped onto the tracks, and then a squishy noise as the butter took near-immediate effect. This was because, in fact, a huge vat of butter had been dropped onto the track. You're surprised, I can tell.

Thomas suddenly found himself going at a speed he had never thought he could go. "SOON BE OVER!" He cheered happily.

And it was.

Thomas the Tank Engine manged the not un-impressive task of somehow managing to skip the points despite them being set in the right direction, sliding straight into a random siding that had been planted right next to a cliff and then slamming head first into the large pile of bushes, brambles and various other unpleasant green things at the end of it.

The mind boggled.

"Okay." Thomas remarked, at last. "So maybe I do have a slight problem."

….

Luckily, no one (Apart from Thomas, his driver, his fireman and the two coaches) was hurt. Thomas felt sadder than ever. He felt a real tool.

Harvey arrived to help clear up the mess and deliver the moral- I mean, cheer Thomas up. Thomas looked sad and Harvey did not like Thomas looking sad. That's what it says in the script.

"I can't go round the difficult bend! I'M USELESS WITHOUT- Oh screw you I'm not saying that line! No, dub it over in post! No one will notice! For whatever reason I don't move my mouth in these things, so you can just say that ruddy thing for me-"

"Yer really useful, Harry. I mean, Thomas. And ye a jolly good friend, whatever that has to do with the situation! And besides, there are worse people you can be."

….

Atop Gordon's Hill, a worse person to be was pulling trucks up the hill. Derek, having returned relatively recently because the local brewery had shut down, was taking a line of flatbeds to Peel Godred as the back engine, as Edward was pulling the train up the hill.

Or so he said. In truth, he was about as shit-faced as a man with a cowpat for a hat. "LOVELY DAY FOR IT!" He shouted to a bird. "Ten *HIC* green bottles, standing on the wall, seven green *HIC* bottles, standing on the wall, and if one green bottle, should accidentally fall….I'll drink all the bottles, standing on *HIC* the wall!"

At which point, Derek gave up, and came off the rails. Edward rolled his eyes.

So enarmored was Derek with the idea of drink that he failed to notice the coupling snap, and the trucks roll back down the line.

And let's be fair, that's probably for the best. No one wanted to imagine Derek trying to chase after them, it would be too pathetic for words.

Edward was too knackered to care by this point.

…..

And speaking of too pathetic for words, Charlie Brown theme playing in his head once more, Thomas puffed back to Tidmouth. He wanted his coaches back so he could blame his terribleness on them.

"HEY!"

But suddenly, he stopped, and watched in surprise as the line of trucks rattled down the rails.

"They're heading for the new station! I must warn the stationmaster, so this can become his problem and I can go home with a clear conscience!" So he raced after them.

I said HE RACED AFTER THEM.

RACED. Not lightly jogged! GO FASTER THOMAS YOU SOD!

"GO TO HELL!"

I'm already there! It's called Season 9 throuhg 16 mate, read the author's notes!

But where was I?

The trucks rattled around the bends, and Thomas dashed at anti-lightning speed, shooting past them. But he was nearly at the difficult bend. He slammed on the brakes. "Slow down, and puff with care!" He said, channeling Edward's advice regarding how to smoke a pipe.

Well, I mean, do I even need to tell you he made it?

What was odd, however, was that the trucks also made the bend. It was almost as if Thomas's failure to make it round there was due entirely to his own incompetence. But that can't be true, can it?

The answer is yes. Yes it can.

Thomas puffed and raced into the station, just in time. "THERE BE RUNAWAY TRUCKS A COMING DOWN THE PASS! Preferrably with stock footage a plenty!"

Stock Footage Norris, the local signalman, switched the points at the last second, and the trucks rattled on down into a siding. Oh what fun, and jollity. Can I go home yet?! I haven't had me tea in ages!

The station was untouched, anyway. Though on the Island of Sodor, how likely that was to last was iffy.

…..

"Oh thank god you're back!"

Thomas, Annie and Clarabel had been reunited the next day, and were now puffing happily along to the opening of the station. He passed the bend without any issue, it wasn't difficult anymore.

That's that character development taken care of!

It was a great success, and the station looked great. Both of these are white lies, no one enjoyed that day, least of all the narrator, who was stuck with doing this lousy bloody script. WHERE'S MY AGENT?!

"Congrats, Thomas, or whatever. You are a very brave and useless…sorry, wrong script, USEFUL engine. Well done, I guess." Hatt was not a very good actor, and it was an off day. Only three sponge cakes before arriving instead of his standard fifteen.

"Thank you sir!" Thomas was so proud, it made his firebox glow.

Later, the great Kellthorpe Fire would be attributed to Thomas's pride. Much like many mistakes of this time period, I wager.

…..

"Hello Toby."

"….Hello Arthur."

"….Why do you think you're here?"

"Because you need the completed set. Eight of us in the main, eight of us have to go to therapy. Also, I've got some issues. Not going to lie."

"Fair enough!" Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "Tell me about what you did before you got dragged into this mess of a relationship!"

"Oh you know...I took trucks and coaches all over the tramway...for some reason we never got to interact much with the other engines, Henrietta and I. Managed to keep a respectable line of work for myself for near sixty years, until...well, I'm sure you'll have information about how the world started changing in the last few years of my line."

"Yes, indeed. How is Henrietta?"

"She's fine, thank you. Talking a little less nowadays."

"You know we actually checked with the rest of the Island, and half of the people on it think you're just talking to a block of wood that someone's given wheels as a cruel joke."

"Ah, but is that not what we all are, in the end?"

"Speak for yourself, mate! I was in Harry Potter!"

Toby raised an eyebrow. "Huh. Didn't see you in it."

"It was the Turkish version! I was quite the catch for the filmmakers! ...But enough about me! Let's discuss you, now what would you say is your main role in the group?"

"Oh, moral support. And being the token non-steamer, which, you know, is great." Toby sighed. "No one gets what I'm going through, but I don't do a James and complain until everyone's sick of it, do I? Oh no!" He paused. "Wow, I am...really venting to you, aren't I? You're good at this!"

"Ha! Well, thank you! I did a lot of research for the role. Good Will Hunting, Ordinary People...Silence of the Lambs."

"Excuse me, what?"

"Anyway! So...you're happy with your role?"

"Happy is a bit of a strong word. I'm content. Now, if I could get a shed, that would be a step forward." He paused. "I mean...now that you mention it, that is one thing that does kinda...bug me. Even back in the old days, I never really got to stay at the sheds that much. Mostly for group shots, and occasionally when I had the time to stop by. Normally it was just one of the worksheds, or somewhere like that. And occasionally an old hut."

"And that bugs you?"

"More than I thought apparently. I'm also very aware that I'm...kind of a token guy. I feel like a bit of an outsider. Plenty of steam engines, plenty of diesel and then there's me. Smack bang in the middle. It can get quite lonely at times."

"Splendid! You're already talking more and more about your issues! I can scrap the testimonials I had planned!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah they weren't really revealing."

"Oh." Toby didn't quite buy this, but he accepted it.

"Send the next one in!" Arthur didn't need to glance down to his notes, and he watched as Emily approached with interest.


	72. Episode 7: Percy's Big Mistake

...*taps screen*

Hello! ...I am alive!

...Oh boy.

So, I've been busy. Very busy completing my last year's worth of essays for university. It isn't an excuse, and I probably should have put something out to tide you all over, and I'm sorry. But I'm here now, and hopefully I can update things faster. I have to admit, the break did me good, I burned through an entire episode in one day after months of being stuck. But hopefully we won't be as long gone as we were this time!

Now, reviews!

 **Reality Show Rejection/Samaritan Prince:** First of all, nice new name! And also, yes and yes! Both of those actually make total sense in my mind and it's canon to me.

 **Game-Watch:** Ha! Thanks for understanding! Hope you understood where I was as well!

 **AaronCottrell97** : What are the odds, right?

 **MattPrice01:** I hope this one is more your size, my friend!

 **Radical Sandwiches:** Hmmm...interesting idea. I'll leave them for the end of the season, but feel free to speculate about our missing figures nonetheless!

 **UGX7** : Yes, that was it! He was the Hogwarts Express...they had to downscale.

 **jsw:** I cannot stress enough that Arthur is not a role model.

 **The Nerdinator:** WHEW! 700! And yes. Yes he does.

 **Garchomp65:** That was more a joke of Thomas's pathetic walk back and the Charlie Brown theme is a reference to the Christmas special which is infamously used as code-word for depressing music. A stupid joke, I admit.

 **Streakofscarlet:** His defence is that he is Thomas. He's gotten off scot-free every time.

 **HunterCreeper712:** Thank you, man! Yeah, I think Annie and Clarabel are ones that I can work on. While they're in every season, they're also doing nothing for the most part, but I will try and incorperate them more into things as you suggest!

MaggieMull99: Thank you! It's honestly rewarding to hear that I'm people's favourite! I hope this rewards your patience and that you have a good time with it!

 **Guest:** BETTER LATE THAN NEVER!

CUE THE THEME!

* * *

Emily exited with little fanfare. No one could notice that her time had been far, far briefer than even Toby's.

And still, Edward and Gordon waited.

Suddenly, Arthur returned, beaming with pride. "Well, now that wasn't too hard, was it?!" Several whistles of outrage were ignored as the peacock strutted before them, his smile never fading. "Now, we'll be temporarily putting my interviews on hold today. I rather think you've all had a lot to think about-"

"THANK GOD!" said the ever so subtle Gordon.

"-and as such, I want to move onto something a bit more…practical."

"Practical?!" James snorted. "What, like trust falls?"

…..

AN HOUR LATER.

"Welcome to Trust Falls Cliff!"

"HOLY HELL IT'S SO BLOODY HIGH!"

…..

THE PAST.

Percy is a little green engine who can shunt and pull.

Do you find that sentence draining, or obvious since we've been doing this for who knows how long now? Well tough. We're going to keep hearing stupid stuff like that forever now, so you might as well get used to it! We've got like fifteen of these in this script alone!

Oh, oh, look here's another one! He pulls passengers AND freight!

What makes this different from near any engine on this Island at this point does not present itself to me at this time, so shut up, it's not a plot hole! He works at the docks and the quarry. BOTH! At the same time! I know, what originality!

Well beggar me if that isn't the most original thing ever, this is rid-GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME-

….

ACTUAL DRUGGING BREAK.

…..

Heyyyyy everyone I'm back. No more negativity from meeeeee! I was in Boys from the Black Stuff you know! Hahahaha! Let's go back to our funny British engines doing quaint and amusing things!

Bloody hell it feels like it's taken forever just to get back here!

Ahem. So as we were saying. At the docks and at the quarry, you can see Percy doing what he does best. Messing things up something royal. His favourite job is carrying the mail. It's certainly not something that he has begun to resent after so many years and is only continuing to say that it's his favourite job because some people hold a gun to his face. Not that at all. We promise.

But sometimes Percy has so much to do that he ends up running late. Ah, that is, as the kids say, a mood all right.

That evening (Which evening or day we're talking about, I'm not sure) Percy was moving at such a pace that snails could easily do five laps around him. He slowly, emphasis on slowly, backed the last set of flatbeds back into the yard, and jumped in horror.

"YOU ARE LATE, GREEN MERCHANDISE SELLING ENGINE." The Yard Manager, now a member of the Railway Board, threatened. "I WILL HAVE TO SPEAK TO OUR TOOL, SIR TOPHAM HATT, AND INFORM HIM OF YOUR HENIOUS CRIME. IT IS NOT OUR WISH TO DESTROY A SUITIABLE VENUE OF PROFIT, BUT IF WE MUST, WE WILL."

Percy didn't really care about destruction, or his own come to that. He was too busy being knackered and coughing up seaweed. A mermaid had popped up, he would later tell the other engines, and shoved it in his face when he had demanded three wishes of her. The other engines looked at Percy oddly, and decided as one that he was clearly on the verge of a mental breakdown.

The bus had already left the station in that regards, unfortunately.

Of course, he didn't tell it to the engines then, as all of them were also asleep. James managed the impressive task of making his snoring sound snug.

Then Percy heard voices. This wasn't abnormal for Percy, who heard voices telling him of the future and the past and also that Thomas really needed to die at least thrice a week. But this time, they weren't coming from inside his head. They were coming from the other side of the shed wall.

It was the Fat Controller, and he was talking to Percy's driver. Carlin swayed on his feet like a jelly in an earthquake.

Percy tried not to listen. He didn't try very hard, so he heard what was said.

"PERCY HAS BEEN LATE TOO OFTEN THIS WEEK!"

"Sir, it's eleven at night." Carlin said, so weary that he couldn't even summon up the strength to swear.

"HE MUST GO TO THE SCRAPYARDS TOMORROW!" Carlin loudly hissed at the volume of his voice.

"THE FAT CONTROLLER WANTS TO SCRAP ME!" said Percy, who had inherited from James a slight problem of the vocal chords, in which his whispers sounded like bellows. He worried all night long.

He worried all night short as well, but that wasn't as dramatic.

…

The next morning, the sun shone and the birds sang. It was an Elvis Presley this time around, but Percy was in no mood to listen to the nearby cuckoo screeching out Blue Suede Shoes.

"THE FAT CONTROLLER WANTS TO SCRAP ME!" he wailed.

"Boil your head." Henry said, helpfully.

"AND ALL BECAUSE I WAS LATE!"

"The Fat Controller wouldn't scrap a really useful engine!" declared Thomas.

"Yeah, so you'd better be worried!" chortled James. There was a very loud sigh from Edward that indicated that he didn't honestly give a rats arse about what was going on.

"And you, Percy, are a really useful engine!"

Percy felt better and decided that no, it wasn't time for Thomas to die that week. He then glanced AT the time and swore. "Shit! I'm going to be LATE!" He decided that if he was quick, the Fat Controller wouldn't send him to the scrapyard.

"My word!" said Edward, watching in amazement as Percy shot out of the sheds, across the turntable and out of the yard with lightning speed. "Greasing the rails really does help, apparently!"

Percy's first job was to pick up pipes from Brendam Docks. Cranky was clearly high, and not just because he was a crane. He was taking his time unloading as Percy shot in, banged his buffers on the truck and roared "HURRY UP SLOWCOACH!"

(Somewhere, a rather battered old carriage looked around in confusion at her familiar nickname, before returning to her book)

"Listen…pig! I'll take as long as I like!" Cranky had been creating a new poem on the nature of butterflies, and how their deaths were a symbol of the pointlessness of it all. He decided that very clearly, he should have focused on how Percy proved that there was no meaning to life, not even one that Darwin had figured out. Defiantly, he went slower than ever.

And if one considers how fast Cranky usually was, that was damnably slow.

The moment Cranky was finished, Percy took off. Carlin was apparently sleepwalking, for that was the only reason that could explain why Percy appeared to be in complete control. Neither he nor Percy had waited for the pipes to be tied down.

"Oooh." Carlin said, as he glanced back. "A chain. How f**king classy." He turned back as they rounded the bend. The suspicious sound (The sound that sounded like a ton of pipes falling off a truck and hitting the ground) only made him spur Percy on.

The little green engine needed no encouragement. He was so blinded by what a good and totally not screwed up job he was doing that he blithely shoved the trucks into the appropriate siding and hurried off, blind to the world.

Carlin, meanwhile, wondered what the hell Henry's driver had put in his tea the previous night. It felt incredibly, whatever it was. Like he'd somehow managed to surpass reality.

He next arrived to collect some tar for the men working on the road. For whatever reason they'd not used the helpfully marked 'TAR WAGONS' because productivity was something that no one on this island considered. And the cameraman wasn't going to give him a friendly nudge, was he?

"Be careful!" Carlin said. "Tar is sticky stuff! Much like the rumours that I'm constantly on the verge of a nervous shutdown!"

But Percy wasn't being careful. The rails were once again greased to perfection, so he rattled along at a speed that he really shouldn't have been going. He somehow managed to teleport up Gordon's Hill, and then promptly went down said hill the hard way. Carlin leaned over the side and was violently ill.

So far, so normal.

What wasn't normal was Gordon waiting with the express. Percy didn't see him, too busy planning how 'not-dead' he was going to be over the coming years.

The brake-van, for whatever reason, went sailing down one side of the points. Gordon watched it go in vague surprise, before turning around to see his tar shaped future heading towards him.

"Oh no James is never going to shut up about-"

And then they hit him. The flatbeds managed to do a full ballerina twirl midair, the lids of each barrel were also incredibly loose. Which in fairness, was not on Percy. Gordon didn't have time to consider this, however, as his nose promptly inhaled the black stuff right up there.

"Oh." Carlin said, finally coming back to the land of the living. He paused, and then sheepishly remarked. "Whoops."

Luckily, no one was hurt-

"OH REALLY!?" roared the big blue engine.

-but Gordon was very cross. So again, pretty much par for the course for him. "Now 'ook what 'ou 'one!" he shouted, nose stuffed up to the nth degree. "What 'ill the Ffffffffffffat Controller say?!"

"He'll say "Oh dear Percy, here, dry your eyes?", or something like that." Percy said, hopefully.

"NO HE WILL NOT." Gordon said.

"OH NO. TIS THE END!" Percy wailed, and decided to run away. Gordon, watching in dumbstruck bemusement as the little green engine backed away from him, felt a strange case of déjà vu.

Harvey was along later to clear things up (Not the actual tar, that was a job for the cleaners) when the Fat Controller arrived on Thomas. The little blue engine had nothing better to do than be the Fat Man's personal chariot, apparently.

"Where is Percy?!" boomed Hatt, three representatives from the Railway Board handing him spools upon spools of script written upon ticker tape. It was cheaper that way. "He has caused confusion and delay!" He was already getting sick of that particular catchphrase!

Gordon didn't know. And frankly, he didn't care. "He left very quickly, sir! …Can I go now, sir? I think I'm beginning to set."

"He heard you at the sheds, sir!" piped up Thomas, the little sneak. "He knows that you plan to kill him!" The Fat Controller's blank stare confirmed Thomas's thought process, and he amended his words thusly. "He thinks you're going to scrap him."

"But how could he have possibly misunderstood my incredibly specific-"

There was a long pause. The Fat Controller sighed.

"I need a word with Percy. You must all help me look for him!" He paused, as the Railway Board pressed another section nof the script into his hand. "And by all, I mean Harvey and….who is 'RED MERCHANDISE SELLING ENGINE'? …Oh James. As the budget will not allow us any more engines."

And so they left.

"BUT SIR!" protested Gordon. Already he could feel the tar hardening and sticking to the rails.

….

They searched high (Harvey went on a bridge, saw nothing and decided to go home for his tea) and low (James was sent to look at every station. EVERY. SINGLE. STATION.) but there was not a Percy to be seen. They looked to, and fro, and in-between, but there was no sight of him.

Strangely enough, Percy was in one of the first places they should looked. Namely, making a meal of his supposed 'last night' upon rails by bunkering down in the sheds. "What is to become of poor, brave, INNOCENT Percy!?" He wailed. No one was around to hear him, Carlin having gone off to have a wee. He felt very small and very lonely, as he was both.

Thomas was taking his time, looking around the old branch-line.. Then he sighed. "Oh god, I know where he is sir." He puffed back as fast as he could, and entered the very quiet sheds.

"PERCY!" roared the Fat Controller. "ARE YOU THERE?!"

"Siiiiir!" wailed Percy. "Please don't scrap me, sir!" He suddenly turned defiant. "OR IF YOU WILL I SHALL REIGN DOWN GREAT FURY-"

"Oh shut your mouth, you silly sod." Hatt said, wearily. "Scrap you! The very thought of it!" And he told Percy what had actually been said the previous night.

…..

"HELLO CARLIN!"

"Jumping balls!" shouted Carlin. He blinked. "Er….hello sir? …Why are you out here in the middle of the night?"

"I've been kicked out!" The Fat Controller's face fell. "Apparently my weight issues are giving Alice the vapers. Or something along those lines."

"….Are you sure she's not just vaping?"

"Whatever, it's weird stuff. So….I've been thinking. That poor mite of yours has been doing so much work and it's all too much for him, so-" Hatt threw back his head and loudly spoke unto the world "PERCY HAS BEEN LATE TOO OFTEN THIS WEEK!"

"Sir, it's eleven at night."

"HE MUST GO TO THE SCRAPYARDS TOMORROW!" Sir Topham had been so animated in his declaration that he accidentally swallowed a passing fly, and he spent the next ten minutes coughing it out. Carlin sat and watched awkwardly.

There was a long pause, as Hatt recovered. "So after he's-AHEM! After he's taken some scrap to the scrapyard, put him on mail duty and nothing else all week!" He nodded, turned away and walked off.

"What a strange encounter." Carlin remarked. He paused, and took a sip of coffee that Henry's driver had given him. "Why can't I feel my legs?"

….

"That seems highly improbable, sir."

"Shut your mouth, Thomas."

"Do you really mean it, sir!?" said Percy, who had somehow forgotten about his heroic last stand in the time it had taken for Hatt to re-enact his conversation.

"Well I've got to bloody shove you off somewhere, haven't I?!" Hatt swore.

"The mail! FOR A WHOLE WEEK! …. Yay!" Percy whistled to cover up his own feeling of bitterness at being type-cast again. Thomas also whistled, it was good to have his friend back….from what I'm not sure.

So Percy pulled the mail for a whole week. He was never late and he never made a mistake, and by the time he was finished he hated it. He had also decided to never listen to silly stories ever again, especially ones made up by his own fevered imagination.

Yeah. We'll see how long THAT lasts.

….

Arthur had attached a comical megaphone to the side of his face. It would have been hysterical, had four engines not been atop the large cliff face over looking a valley, and had not the remaining four been down below in terror.

"Now! I think you're all familiar with the principal of the thing! You're going to back off the cliff-"

James shrieked.

"-close your eyes-"

Edward let out a groan.

"-take to the air-"

Henry had palpitations.

"-and pray your partner will catch you!"

Percy didn't seem that bothered, really.

"All right! Let's see! …Henry, you're up!"

"I KNOW I AM! Ohhhh why didn't you let me have my stash of drugs back?!" He paused. "By which I mean, I've never touched ANYTHING OF THE SORT! …Are you down there, Toby?"

"Yep!"

"….I trust you!"

"That's nice!" Toby shouted back. Henry whimpered. That was not the response that he had been hoping for, in all honesty. He took a deep breath, backed up and decided that at the very least, he would die with a clear conscience.

"I hope to God YOU DIE FIRST, JAMES!"

His conscience cleared, he took the plunge.

The screams, whipped away by the wind, did little to improve the moods of James and Edward. The fact that Toby apparently managed to catch him, using the flatbeds provided, did not reassure them in the slightest.

It was Percy's turn next. "I'm as FREE AS A BIRD!" He shouted, and practically dove off the cliff. He didn't scream, as a matter of fact when he ended up being caught by Emily, his immediate response was "AGAIN!"

James and Edward looked at each other nervously. Then, James looked back towards him. He gulped. "Oh. Oh well that's a shame."

"What?"

"Thomas's flatbed appears to be smaller than the others. With my Greek God physique, I'll never be able to fit on there."

"Nor will your ego." A thought, horrible and nasty, twisted it's way into Edward's brain. "Wait….so if you've got Thomas, then that means I've got-" His eyes widened "-Ohhhhh. No no no no no NO!"

Edward spent most of James's fall (Caused by him nervously releasing his brakes, then spending the remaining few seconds bouncing off the cliff and landing in a vertical line on the horizontal flatbed) contemplating whether or not his pride could take the blows inherent in admitting that no, he really did not want to do this.

Then he spent the five seconds between James screaming "I COME, OH GOD!" and landing with a "CURSE YOU GOD!" trying to recall if 'pride' was something he had ever possessed in his long, and frankly miserable, life.

"Now it's your turn Edward!"

No. This was it. His chance to prove that he, Edward, was afraid of nothing and no one, and certainly did not have problems involving Gordon and certainly did not think that Gordon would, in any way shape or form, deliberately not catch him. This was it. His moment. His chance to-

"I'M ALLERGIC TO CLIFFS!" He shouted. "I've just remembered that! So I'd better come down the normal way and-"

He started to move forward. He was immediately boxed in the face by a large boxing glove marked with the words 'FOR THE WUSSES', stumbled backwards and went off the cliff.

Edward became aware of several things as he fell. The first was that he was screaming. The second was that he was only aware of this because his throat stung like hell, as sound appeared to have abandoned him. The third was that someone had very helpfully laid out trampolines along the cliff face and the immediate area beneath it. Which was nice. And also explained where that loud 'PRANG' noise had come from when James had fallen off. The fourth thing was that everyone appeared to be watching him with some concern, all save Gordon, who was focusing with extreme concentration. The fifth was a rather beautiful pink butterfly that sped past his nose as he tried to angle himself for an easier catch.

The sixth was the butterfly flying into Gordon's face. The seventh was Gordon backing away in overdramatic fashion. The eighth was the gust of wind that pushed him slightly forward in a loop. The ninth was that his landing position was now face down upon the tracks, and the tenth-

"Oooooh!"

-the tenth was the fact that the entire left side of his face was now taken up by a large section of rail, with things like skin and bone having vacated the area as soon as they could.

"Ow." He said, weakly.

…..

"I think we all learned something today."

Seven engines nodded. The eighth was too busy having the embedded rail removed from his face by shoddy workmen, the Works already filled up with Bill and Ben's Playdough related mishap. Dazed and surprised would have been helpful at that point, as they'd run out of anaesthetic, and had therefore carried on with Edward fully awake and aware of the pain.

"Now, let's move on to our next method."

Seven engines groaned. The eighth stared in horror at the man with the chainsaw approaching him.

"Our next session will involve ART!" Arthur would have flipped his hair, had he the ability to. Or, for that matter, had he hair. "As I have created several sculptures of note, I shall be examining them! This is a judge free zone. Except for me, who will be judging them. Edward, as you are indisposed at present, you can create something later."

"Are you real?" Edward asked, breathlessly, as the chainsaw was raised above his head. "Or are you just some devil come to torment me?"

"Now you understand!" cried Thomas.


End file.
